


Cruel Winds

by morrezela



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Dubious Consent, Harm to Children, Knotting, M/M, Minor Violence, Mpreg, Starvation, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 04:52:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morrezela/pseuds/morrezela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen was the sole heir of a wealthy kingdom, cursed to become sterile except in winter when he becomes fertile for bearing. Every year men vied for the right to breed him and become royal consort, but none of the victors have ever impregnated him. As he grew older, he and his country grew more desperate.</p>
<p>Jared was the chieftain of a reviled tribe that was on the brink of starvation. Their homeland was lost to them long ago. They have no meat on their bones and even less in their stores to help them through the winter. Jared goes to beg pity from Jensen's kingdom, only to end up in the yearly competition for the chance to impregnate the king.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for mpregbigbang. Beta was provided by cappy712. All mistakes you find are my own.
> 
> I originally posted the idea for this work as a kink meme prompt back in December of 2011, but then I ended up using it for my MPreg Big Bang.
> 
> Full Warnings: 
> 
> MPreg, knotting, starvation, violence, discrimination, arranged marriages, curses, use of drugs to incapacitate, threats of bodily mutilation, threats of violence against an infant, dub-con of the 'have to for our peoples' variety.

Cold winds were the least of Jared’s worries. They were bitter, to be sure. Many of his people would end up with frostbite from it, but they had furs and leathers to protect them during their sojourn. Worn thin as many of their garments and tents were, they were still serviceable. Lack of new supplies made people all the more diligent about taking care of what they already had.

Jared would know. He’d spent the last few years taking care of an ever dwindling tribe of people. Cast out of their homeland before Jared was even born, they had never found a place that welcomed them. Every forsaken land that they claimed was soon stripped from them as soon as their handiwork began to show the slightest bit of prosperity. They were not given the chance to fortify themselves for long.

‘Nomads’ was a kind word for what they were. It implied that they had lands to travel or even a desire to do so. And so they did. Only their desire was less for movement and more for life. Specifically, they did not desire to be exterminated for who and what they were.

Defense and war were concepts long lost to Jared’s people. Even if they could obtain sufficient weapons, their strategists of knowledge had long since died. They were experts at running, but even that was soon to fail them.

No man, woman or child could run on thin legs and shrunken stomachs. Ribs were not meant to cleave to skin like lovers, but Jared knew that this was a condition becoming all too common. Mothers gave their portions to their hungry children, though there were scarce any of those anymore either.

Children were a luxury when a tribe couldn’t feed those scant few who were already alive. Yet without progeny, Jared’s entire race would die out. He knew that many of their enemies would say that their end was fitting. His kind were an abomination to the world, a people that should never have existed.

As the leader of the Lekifs, he was honor bound to fight for their survival. His grandfather and father before him had done what they could. Even though both of their eras were marked with great loss and suffering, they were hailed as great men by the tribe. They were said to have fought against the loss, that things would have been so much worse without their leadership.

Most days Jared nodded and accepted his people’s praise of his ancestors. Their unshakeable faith in his lineage did make his job easier. But they had not been raised in his father’s tents. They had not seen the despair that would come over his face nor the way that his shoulders would slump.

The people might have faith that their leaders had done all that they could, but those same leaders knew that they hadn’t done enough. Nothing would be enough until the day that they had soil again to call home. This was what Jared had learned from his father and grandfather. This was what his ultimate responsibility was.

The difference between him and his forefathers was that Jared had little hope left of meeting that goal. The last two years had been hard on the tribe. They had been chased from outlying lands and assaulted at markets for being ‘thieves and dogs’ but that was nothing new to them. The draughts that had hampered and hurt established countries had crippled the Lekifs. They had little storage for their food stuffs and even less food stuffs to store.

They wound farther and farther away from their ancestral home, but could find no unclaimed place to rest nor welcoming village to beg rest. Jared had gone from peaceful entreaties and sophisticated dignity to outright begging and sniveling. There was no point in pretending to come from a proud and strong nation anymore. His own frame was gaunt with hunger, and he knew that he was fed better than others.

It was a matter of survival more than his standing. He was one of their finest warriors such as they were. When they were inevitably attacked or chased, Jared would be required to fight back. They build his blood so that he could shed it on their behalf.

Though his muscle was more than others, his fat was not. The wind bit at him, but he forced himself to ignore it. To show defeat before his people would be showing them that they too should give up. Jared would be tempted to show such weakness if another, better leader was certain to take his place. It would be for the best.

But anarchy was not in the Lekif’s hearts. They were too tired for it, and Jared’s burden would be his until the day he died.

That day was fast approaching if the weather was going to hold true to its vicious cycle. The snows were icy as they pelted against dying horses and weathered tents. Frozen water covered the grasses and bitter berries that had died on bushes – too scrawny for even the bird to bother with, but treasured by the cooks of his camp. There wasn’t much that made them happy anymore. Their abilities were wasted on fire roasting and boiling vermin and the occasional bird or actual game animal. But berries were treasured for boiling with the waters to make gamey, tough meats savory or for making water taste as if it was something other than a necessity.

It was a simple happiness, and Jared chose to indulge them in their hunts for such trivial plant matter. If this winter was to be their last, he would give them spots of joy wherever they could find them.

It was on one such berry searching expedition that they found the valley. It wasn’t an oasis, not by any stretch of imagination. It was craggy and rough. Lichens and scraggly bushes decorated its grey stone walls. But the river that trickled through it wasn’t completely frozen over and the intimidating cliffs surrounding it gave them some protection from the wind.

It was ideal. Perhaps it wouldn’t be to normal countries and men, but shelter was a priceless commodity when one had been going without.

Of course, the land had to belong to somebody. As unattractive as it was, it had resource. Water was always important, and Jared could easily see that the stream would be an excellent spawning place for river fish once the temperatures began to rise. There were likely fish still in it, and he would be glad to make all able bodied men and women sit with poles and nets and spears.

But there were also horse and boot tracks around the place. Not many, but they were evenly spaced enough to signal that this was no fellow traveler. The stops between movements were at regular intervals. The years might not have made hardened warriors out of farmers, but they had made the Lekifs excellent trackers. Marks like those meant guards.

Whether they came around regularly or not, Jared had no way of knowing. But it was a fair bet that they would be back again before the season ended.

“Matthew,” Jared called to his nearest guard, “instruct the people to start fishing from the river. Tell them to stockpile what they can. Don’t bother with trying to cure or smoke it. Gut it, and take it to the top of the valley so that the winds freeze it.”

“Jared?” he asked respectfully, eyes downcast.

“These lands are clearly owned. I will take two delegates with me to speak on behalf of the people, but there is no need to wait for permission if we are again unwanted. Smoke drying fish will take too much time, and I don’t want have raw meat spoiling in our packs as we run,” Jared explained.

Matthew nodded and glanced back at the encampments that were going up. “I’ll have our less able fishermen start crafting satchels that can be tied to the outside of packs. That should help keep the meat edible so long as the weather gives no relief.”

“Good thinking,” Jared commended him. “Now have my packs fetched. See if there are any of the dried spices left. I know that the cooks will whine, but I can’t walk into a city with no bounty to offer its liege.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jensen had always hated winter. There was a time when his intense dislike was merely based on the cold and snow. The season had curbed his interests, kept him indoors when he would have liked to have gone exploring. He had no taste for hunting, so even the ease of tracking blood trails on a pure white ground did not improve his opinion.

Everything seemed dead and distant in the winter. Jensen’s fingers never seemed to completely thaw, and the wind howled like some beast coming to get him.

But that was in his boyhood. Jensen’s adulthood brought far more personal reasons to detest the coldest months of the year.

“There are several delegates interested,” Misha prattled on behind Jensen as if Jensen cared what man was going to be shoving up his ass this time -as if he had some sort of choice in the matter.

“The second born of King Marcus the Favored. Lord Amerst. Oh Duke Wellborn he’s very dashing, or so I’m told.”

“Fantastic, perhaps if he is so dashing he’ll manage to not make it hurt quite so much,” Jensen finally snapped, spinning around to glare at Misha. It wasn’t his counselor’s fault that Jensen was in this mess, but there was nobody else to fault either. Jensen’s father had needed to fight that war, and the witch that had cursed Jensen had died at the end of his blade moments after he finished casting the spell.

“In the dead of winter, a seed may grow,” Jensen quoted with all the vitriol that he could muster. The key word was ‘may,’ a fact that had slowly but surely become irrevocable in Jensen’s mind. There was no guarantee of anything except for the fact that his groin could father no children.

He had spent years testing out that theory. Jensen’s father had hired soothsayers and magicians and white and morally ambiguous witches and fairies from all the countries, kingdoms, provinces and realms. Nothing could be done about Jensen’s curse. It was dark, deep blood magic. To find something equally as pure to offset it was unlikely, and Jensen wouldn’t stoop so low as to thinking about dark magic as a viable option.

Even if Jensen could get over the thought of doing something so morally repugnant, using evil to ‘fix’ another evil could not be expected to yield good results. But that stance, right though it was, left Jensen with no other option except to bear his own heir.

At first, it had seemed a simple enough task. Jensen knew when it was that his body supposedly turned fertile. His body would grow warmer and his chest would soften that tiny bit. The overall outward changes were not drastic, but they were visible enough for people to comment on Jensen’s having a glow or an aura to him.

Back when he had been bedding willing ladies right and left in an attempt to sire a child, Jensen had been flattered by their compliments. The women he had lain with were women that he trusted. They were good members of his court and would have made fine queens. They were smart and loyal and more than willing to stand beside Jensen when he succeeded his father.

When it became clear that plan wasn’t going to work, Jensen had at first chosen his male lovers the same way. Jensen would be king that much he made certain all of his lovers knew. Bearing his own child would not in any way diminish him anymore than if he had been born a girl would have diminished his power as queen.

At the time, he had felt poorly about it. His loyal subjects knew that a queen in Jensen’s land was as good as a king. But when those close to Jensen failed to sire any children, and they were forced to cast outside of the kingdom for potential consorts, Jensen came to be thankful for the practice he had had in putting other men in their place.

Some of his suitors, if they could even be called that, had been crass and forceful to a distasteful degree. One of them had felt Jensen’s own blade along his throat when he had attempted to ‘persuade’ Jensen to submit to him. Those distasteful meetings were why Jensen now had his counsel screen his prospective consorts for him.

It was bad enough that he had been reduced to laying with strangers in an attempt to keep his kingdom from falling into the hands of the scheming bastards that had ended the lives of most of his relatives. Jensen refused to keep talking to men who thought themselves to be better because of their pitiful situations in life.

Jensen’s one consolation was that his father had died before he had seen Jensen’s attempt for an heir come to the place that it had. Seeing the parade of stud, for Jensen couldn’t even attempt to call them lovers anymore, come and go from the palace would have broken King Ackles’s heart. Jensen was the only child to survive infancy out of three, and he had been the apple of his father’s eye.

As distasteful as it was, the ascension to king had also made Jensen’s life easier to bear. His mind was constantly taken up with other matters and concerns. Once another unsuccessful attempt at breeding had passed, he could move on and not think of it again until the trees began to lose their colorful leaves and the frosts began to settle into the grounds.

The crown on his head also reminded Jensen of why it was that he allowed this strange courtship to happen to him every year. His people were good people, and Jensen’s cousin was not fit to lead them. He was already cruel, but too well protected for Jensen to take care of him politically. If Jensen was to die, those people whose lives he was entrusted with would fall prey to a fate they did not deserve.

But if Jensen was to finally become successful in producing an heir, then he would have some leverage for pushing his cousin farther out of favor. There were those that supported his cousin merely because it appeared to a wise long term wager. They would flip away easily enough if there was a young Ackles drooling in the palace nursery again.

“Do you want to address your suitors this year?” Misha asked gently.

“No,” Jensen answered curtly. He wanted no such thing.

Misha hid his exasperation well, but not well enough. Jensen could easily see the frustration building in his friend’s frame. “Will you be addressing them though?” Misha’s rephrased question was not quite as gentle as his first.

“No. They have no desire for me, only my wealth and power. I’ll not make myself more meat to them than strictly necessary. If they think me pretty, it is their own business. I’ll thank them to keep their tongues to themselves.”

Misha nodded and scribbled a note down on his parchment. “Shall I add that to my behavioral expectations lecture?”

“No,” Jensen said, “only one of them will be making it to my bedroom for a tryst, and he will forget himself in the heat of the moment. They all do.”

“Yes, Sire,” Misha said with a bow as he made his way out of the room.

In a different month of the year, Jensen would call him on leaving before he was released by his king. But it was winter, and Jensen knew he was almost unbearable in the days leading up to his ‘breeding.’ He could give Misha and the others some latitude for having to suffer Jensen’s mood swings.

In fact, he needed to allow them that space because they would be the ones protecting him when he was disappointed by another failure. As loathe as he was to find a new suitor, Jensen never could keep his hopes from rising each year after the deed was done. Few were the children born into the world that were as wanted and desired as Jensen’s un-conceived child.

Yearning was not too drastic a word to describe how Jensen felt about his heir. He wanted a child that he could raise to be a ruler. He wanted a young one that he could teach all the secrets to being a good king that his father had taught him. And if his child was a girl, well Jensen would teach her to wield a blade before he would instruct her in the art of politics. After experiencing the behavior of rogues, he would make certain that his daughter be able to emphasize the point of her dagger.

The father would hopefully be bearable. It was the council’s job to screen the suitors and test them, so there would at least be some redeemable qualities to his eventual husband. But Jensen had never been one to like everybody. He was accessible as a king, but not as a person. His abilities to go beyond that were limited.

With a grunt of exasperation at his own maudlin musings, Jensen strode over to the desk in his chambers and began to draft correspondences to neighboring countries and other allies. Connection and remembrance was key in maintaining healthy, peaceful relations.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There were many different reactions that Jared was used to seeing when he presented himself at a gate or palace or even manor. Being herded off into a room of men from what appeared to be several different regions was a new one. The short man that had herded him along had not seemed one bit interested in Jared’s protests, but he should have been.

Any fool with eyes should be able to see that Jared did not belong with the other men. They were rich and cultured. While Jared would dare any man to a battle of wits or education, he knew that he was not on the same footing. Being chieftain of his tribe didn’t hold much weight when all he was doing was prolonging their agonizing deaths.

Jared’s best robes were faded. There were preemptive patches where the seamstresses thought a bony elbow or finger might poke through. He was thin and his nose and face had splotches of red where the wind had burned him on his travels.

The men in the room were dressed in various fineries. Those who were not in rich silks or amazingly soft woolens were covered in royal armors. Their menservants likely dressed better than Jared did.

One by one, each man in the room was called away into other rooms. As the others waited, Jared could hear them mumbling to themselves, rehearsing speeches that they had obviously prepared. This, at least, was normal. Jared had at one point done that himself.

But his silver tongue had tarnished with the taste of dust and snow. “Please let us live. I beg of you, show mercy,” wasn’t all that hard to say once it was said to enough people.

“Chieftain Jared of Lekif?” the man calling Jared’s name sounded as confused by its presence on his heavy scroll as Jared was. There were a few men left in the room that stared as Jared followed after the palace worker. One even hissed and spat at the hem of Jared’s garment as he walked by.

“Dog,” the man sneered.

Ahead of Jared, the palace worker stopped and scribbled a note down before continuing. Jared very much hoped it wasn’t a reminder of what Jared’s people were. They had been paying the price for the bargain of their ancestors for far too long. He should not be judged for something he had never had a choice nor a part of, but few were the kingdoms that acknowledged that.

Even this far from their homeland, far enough that Jared didn’t even know where they were, the name of Lekif was sure to have traveled. Their fate was a warning to all others who might attempt to follow in their path. Jared dearly hoped that the lesson was learned. He would not wish his people’s fate on another if he could help it.

“Sit,” the man that had lead him to the room ordered as he gestured towards a gilded chair that looked to be ten kinds of torture to sit upon.

Jared complied, unsurprised to find the seat unforgiving as the ostentatious ornamentation dug into his back.

“So you are the leader of a tribe, yes?” the man asked.

“Yes,” Jared answered quickly, letting his pride shine. They might not have much, but he was still proud of them for continuing to survive.

“Impressive, if a bit unorthodox,” the man allowed.

“What sort of special talents would you bring?”

“Excuse me?”

The man looked up at stared at him. “What have you to offer?”

“My tribute is with my men,” Jared answered slowly. “I don’t have much to bring because we…”

“You want me to put nothing?” the man asked.

“I…”

“Truly? Nothing? You cannot even whistle?”’

“I… no? What does whistling have to do with anything?” Jared asked.

“It is just… talents can be useful for determining the quality of your… you know,” he said with a vague hand gesture that seemed to sweep over Jared from head to toe.

“My quality of what? Begging? I assure you that I beg very, very well. I am a desperate man, Sir…”

“Hodge, and it is Adjunct Hodge,” the man provided.

“Adjunct Hodge,” Jared said, mustering every bit of reverence left inside of him, “I merely want a place for my people to rest for the winter. It is cold, and we have nowhere to go. Our bartering supplies are thing, but we would make certain that we not deplete any of the resources that you find precious. I only ask for the opportunity to hunt and fish for small game - in any area that his lordship would allow. We would be gone by springtime.”

“King Ackles’s requirements in that area are quite clear. I do not think that your demands…”

“I am demanding nothing!” Jared yelled despite his better judgment. “I am only asking. As for King Ackles and his requirements, I have been informed of nothing. So I would say that they are anything but clear.”

The adjunct looked perplexed for a moment before he shuffled around some of the heavy parchment on his ornate wooden desk. “You did not receive the missive in its entirety?” he asked.

“I received no missive at all,” Jared corrected.

Adjunct Hodge frowned. “How then are you here for the trials?”

“I am here for no trial. As I tried to explain to the people that herded me here, I am only here to ask leniency while my tribe seeks out shelter for the winter.”

“But you are the leader of your tribe, yes?”

“Yes.”

“And you are unwed or not otherwise betrothed or promised to another?”

“I fail to see what that has to do with…”

“Chieftain,” Adjunct Hodge interrupted, “I do realize that there was some error in our assessment of your purpose in coming here.”

“Thank you,” Jared said with far more grace than he was feeling. “May I now ask for the audience that I originally came for?”

“You may, but I would like you to hear me out about something first. A few months ago, we sent messengers to outlying kingdoms and principalities searching for a consort for our king. That is the crowd that you saw today.”

“I am uninterested in attempting to compete for the favor of one who is so obviously sought after,” Jared said.

Adjunct Hodge took a deep breath and nodded. “I understand why you might feel that way, but we are a desperate nation. Our king is cursed, and we have no heir. The longer he goes without conceiving, the more precarious our position.”

“I fail to see how seeking a male consort would solve that problem, unless you are searching for a man to father a child on his behalf.”

“Not exactly,” Adjunct Hodge said with a small smile. “I will remind you that our king is under a curse.”

“Oh,” Jared said tough his mind had problems accepting exactly what was being told to him.

Adjunct Hodge nodded. “I understand that your people are also cursed?”

Jared kept his instinct to glower off his face and simply nodded his reply. Though the men and women of Lekif descent would not call themselves cursed, there were few others who would share that opinion with them. The enhanced sense of smell and hearing was occasionally envied, but the change to male genitalia was reviled.

“It is true then that the men of your tribe form… bulbs that tie them inside their partner, ensuring that seed is kept inside and increasing chance of conception?”

“We call them knots, but yes,” Jared bit out. Though he was often called names and derided, few ever asked direct questions about his physical differences. It was easier to ignore taunts and insults, but clinical discussion of his body was different.

Adjunct Hodge nodded and scribbled down another note. “You have no heirs and are able to achieve an erection and sexual completion?”

“I already told you that I…”

“Please, Chieftain Padalecki, humor me.”

“This is not the sort of topic I humor others on.”

Adjunct Hodge sighed and looked directly, unflinchingly into Jared’s eyes. “You are starving. I can see the outlines of bones where there should be fat. Your face is full of angles that are not from your father’s seed. Your people are no doubt dying if this is the state their leader is in. You come to beg us for leniency and mercy. Am I correct?”

“Yes,” Jared admitted.

“My king needs to be impregnated, and I am not fond of many of this year’s champions. They are schemers and connivers. Nobody marries royalty for love, but I would rather political motivation stem from a place of starvation and survival than some of those other options.”

“You wish me to enter this ridiculous courtship display,” Jared stated flatly.

“I do,” Adjunct Hodge agreed. “You need something from us, something of great value to you. Even if you were not the chosen one, you would have a week or two of rest from your travels. I would grant you and your people clemency from your trespassing.”

“And if I did ‘win’ this contest for the king’s hand?”

“There is no contest for King Ackles’s hand; merely the chance to impregnate him. Only if he becomes full with child would you marry him. But make no mistake, you would be wed. Infidelity and bastard children would not be tolerated. Once the first pregnancy is complete, you would be expected to make attempts for a second child as well.”

“And my rights in all of this? My people?” Jared asked.

“You are allowed to make demands of your own. They would be reviewed and either accepted or denied. Either way this goes, I can guarantee that it will serve you better to go this route. King Ackles become irritable and ungenerous this time of year.”


	2. Chapter 2

“You are crazy! Mad!” Sebastian yelled at Aldis when he finished reading through Jared’s interview notes. “You wish to literally set a dog on Jensen’s ass?”

“You judge him too harshly,” Aldis said, reining his temper in.

“I do not need to judge him,” Sebastian retorted. “Our allies will do that for us. He is a dog, Aldis.”

“No, our dogs are treated better than you speak of this man and his heritage. So he is not like the rest of you, what makes that so horrible? It is not as if he chose to become the way that he is.”

“But his ancestors did. They were the ones that made the pacts with the wolf gods. They made themselves into non-human beings.”

“And that isn’t the problem with Jensen? His has been cursed into an unnatural state as well.”

“Curse, not sought,” Sebastian reminded him. “Jensen is one man. Jared’s tribe is large, and he stipulates that if he becomes that married consort that his people be allowed to settle into our kingdom and be part of it. No segregation or different treatment from the other people.”

“What do you find troubling about his request?” Misha’s calm voice helped to bank the fire burning inside his chest.

“How long until our people became infected with their dog traits? How long until we too are chased from our borders for rutting and breeding with such a people?” Sebastian replied.

“My forefathers were not of this land either. We were chased away, and the great Queen Madera accepted us and welcomed us and our differences with open arms,” Aldis pointed out hotly. “You would have denied us too?”

“Of course not, that was different,” Sebastian said dismissively. “You were old allies whose ports were invaded and taken over. There was nothing that you had done to cause such an invasion.”

“So you think that Chieftain Padalecki should continue to pay for a crime that he had no part in?” Aldis challenged.

“I THINK that you are…”

“Sebastian, Aldis, enough,” Misha said as he rose from his seat and walked to stand directly between the two of them. “Our land has long been known to take in outcasts when there is good cause. We are also in a precarious political position with some of our neighbors right now. Without support from our allies, we will land in just as dangerous a position as being without an heir has put us in.”

“So what, we throw the man to the wolves?” Aldis asked.

“Sounds fitting to me,” Sebastian mumbled.

Misha held up a hand to silence them. “He meets the qualifications, and his stipulations for marriage are acceptable. We have allowed others with more stringent demands to pursue Jensen’s hand. But that does not mitigate the threat that his very existence brings to us politically. I suggest then that we harden his tests.”

“You seek to eliminate him without appearing to be unsavory,” Aldis sneered.

“I seek to protect us all. If he wins, so be it. He will be far better suited for the title of consort than any other. Any objections made by our allies should be silenced with our proof. If he fails, he fails the same as any other man.”

“That is not fair. You seek to make a man be more than he is. You try him beyond what you would ask of others.”

“Fairness is not a requirement of politics, Aldis. You know this as well as I do. I may not like the world that surrounds us, but it is my duty to make certain this kingdom not only lives, but thrives in it. Opening ourselves to needless attack when we are on such a precipice is not merely unwise, but foolish.”

Sebastian smirked at Misha’s words, and Aldis did his best not to seethe at the look of victory already on his compatriot’s features.

“Perhaps we should leave Sir Jared alone in the king’s pantry for an hour. Tell him to search for mice,” Sebastian suggested.

“You seek to demean him as well as torture?” Misha’s voice was stern. “No, Sebastian. One does not put a starving man in a room of food and then treat him as a common housecat. There is no reason to be cruel.”

“Chieftain Jared should be given the same respect that we give all of the other suitors,” Aldis said. “We have given grace to men of far less character.”

“Indeed,” Misha said, eyes searching Aldis’s face for something. “But a test of honor is a worthwhile test, and a starving man is most easily tempted. Character is to be treasured, but not dictated. If a man takes a crust of bread for himself but leaves the rest for his starving family, is he selfish for the crust? Or had he done the honorable thing by feeding his stomach so he has the strength to go foraging the next day?”

“Thievery is not something to be judged on a scale,” Sebastian snapped.

“Oh? Then you think a boy stealing an extra scoop of morning gruel is the same as a burglar who steals a widow’s savings? You must be reasonable, Sebastian, or I’ll have you removed from this panel for being unable to think clearly. You allow your prejudices to show.”

“A barrel of oats,” Aldis suggested.

Misha tilted his head at him in inquiry.

“We give Chieftain Jared a barrel of oats to take back to his people. We weight and measure it before hand, then send a man to his people’s encampment to wait for him. If he secrets away more than a portion for himself, then he is not worthy to trust to be the father of our future monarch.”

“A barrel of oats? What good would that do? Eat them raw? Even if he did, what is to keep him from putting rocks in the barrel to make up for the weight?” Sebastian countered.

“You are determined to cause his failure, aren’t you?” Aldis accused.

“Enough! I’ll not warn either of you again. We will give Chieftain Jared a token from King Jensen. Tell him that his story has garnered Jensen’s attention and that he wishes to bestow a token of favor on him. Then we shall see what he does with it.”

“Bah,” Sebastian sneered, “he’ll run like the dog he is if the token is large enough.”

“Then he will be no longer your concern, Sebastian,” Misha said, a note of finality in his voice.

Aldis stood to his feet and left the room. “Jared will not run,” he said over his shoulder before he shut the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The gold cuffs were worth more than Jared had ever seen in his father’s coffers. By the time Jared was thirteen, his father didn’t even have coffers anymore. The ornate locking box had gone in barter for hay and muslin. The ‘riches’ of the royal blood of the Lekifs had been stored in a leather pouch for what seemed like ages.

“A token of affection?” Jared asked as he eyed the tall, blue eyed man presenting him with the gifts. Though it was uncharitable, Jared did not care for Lord Roche nearly as much as he liked Adjunct Hodge. There was an air of cruelty and disdain in his eyes that Jared had seen far too often in his travels.

“Jensen was most keen that I give them to you. Your story touched his heart, and he wanted to give a sign of his wish for you to become his champion.”

The words were hard for Jared to believe. It hardly seemed to be possible, but it wasn’t as unbelievable as if King Jensen had chosen him because of his dashing looks. Jared’s thin frame was not what it should be; even his long hair was brittle at the ends for lack of a strong diet.

If fed, Jared knew he would be comely enough. But as things currently stood, he would not be garnering any advantage over his fellow suitors with his physique. Much as it was flattering to be favored, Jared couldn’t believe that his sob story was so touching that a man of Jensen’s rank would disregard appearance entirely.

Then again, it was possible that the gift was King Ackles’s way of trying to improve Jared’s appearances. More likely, though, the gift was a test. There could be no more obvious reason for Jared supposedly garnering the attention of a man who he had never met.

The stress that Sebastian had put on the words made it plain that not accepting the gift would be an insult, so Jared made sure to use his best manners while accepting the lavish adornments. Perhaps he was being checked for courtly ability. It seemed logical. He had admitted that he had come prepared to beg, and his tribe was a travelling one. Many had made the mistake of calling him uncivilized.

Sebastian looked rather disappointed with Jared’s reaction, so he assumed that he had passed whatever trial was going on. But Jared did not put the cuffs on his arms. For one thing, they were too large for the current thickness of his arms. For another, they would only serve to highlight the lack of quality in his vestments.

Most importantly, Jared had no desire to become fond of so unimportant of an embellishment. Not when he was going to go and sell them. There was a chance that going to the trader’s square and bartering away a gift from the king would get him tossed out of the capital city with the rest of its trash.

There was more of a chance that each of Jared’s fellow suitors had been given a similar token of ‘affection,’ and those tokens would be sought out once the field of competitors had been thinned. Perhaps the condition of the gifts would be checked to see how valued they had been. Maybe they would be inspected for signs of being worn and cherished.

Jared didn’t dwell much on that possibility. A man with a group of hungry mouths to feed did not hoard gold for sentimental reasons. If King Ackles came looking for his gift, Jared would just have to send him to the markets.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Beef,” Matthew said reverently as he bit down on the slab of meat that was served with his soup.

Outside of Jared’s tent, the wind was howling, but it could not drown out the sounds of happiness as his people partook in what for them was a feast. The beef had been an expensive purchase. He could have gotten more grain for the balance of what he had gotten for his cuffs. But the taste of cultivated meat was a treasured one, and he wanted to give something besides just sustenance to his people.

“My portion is larger than yours,” Jared said, eyeing Matthew’s piece suspiciously.

The man would not meet his eyes, and when Jared looked at Thomas, he found his other warrior’s gaze to be focused intently on a long since mended tear in the side of his tent.

“What?” Jared demanded.

“Jared,” Matthew said slowly, “you understand that your health is important to us, now more than ever.”

“A few more mouthfuls of meat and broth won’t edify my muscle. Not quickly enough for it to matter for any physical trials that may occur. The period of testing has already begun,” Jared scolded him.

Thomas cleared his throat. “It is not that muscle that we are concerned about.”

It took a moment for Jared’s brain to catch up to what he was being told, and the flush that came to his cheeks was completely excusable as far as he was concerned. “I am fully capable of achieving an erection.”

“It isn’t that,” Matthew hastened to assure him. A contrary part of Jared wondered why Matthew was so quick to reaffirm his chieftain’s masculinity, but he pushed that aside.

Matthew glanced over at Thomas before continuing with, “It is just that it is harder to conceive when one is undernourished.”

“That is not a problem for our people,” Jared reminded him.

As much as it disgusted him, the recent years had forced them to take care with the copulation practices of the tribe to ensure that the number of children being conceived was not high. They hadn’t the resources to feed hungry mouths. Worse, when a mother hadn’t enough food in her stomach, the risk of miscarriage and sickly children grew. Grief was as certain of a killer in those circumstances as starvation.

Yet where normal human bodies would reject child bearing without proper nutrition, Jared’s people were still able to conceive and bear young fairly easily. It was one of the reasons that they had become so feared back when their land was still their own.

While some said that Jared’s tribe had made a barter of dark magic, his own kind called it a blessing for the faithfulness they had shown. They were gifted with the touch of the wild because of how well they had tended to the soils and pastures they used for their farming. They did not over cultivate nor did they strip the land of its richness. They had been blessed with their heightened attributes because they could be trusted to grow their population without infringing on the health of their earth.

Other kingdoms hadn’t quite agreed with that notion, and that had led to Jared throwing himself at a man he had never met in the hopes that he would be chosen to impregnate him. It was not a comfortable feeling, but it brought hope and the possibility of deep relief.

“Jared,” Thomas said quietly, “I have no doubt that you are still virile, your seed still viable. But if you somehow managed to win King Jensen’s hand, you will not have long in his bed. The city is rife with rumblings. You are nowhere close to his first lover, and none of his previous couplings have even had a hint of success. There is a chance that he is practically barren. So I think it best that you strive for any additional advantage that you can get.”

And what did Jared have to say to that? He ate his extra portion and spoke not another word.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I dislike jousting,” Jensen complained as he was escorted to the stands.

“You liked it well enough when you were participating,” Misha reminded him.

Jensen grunted as he plopped inelegantly down on his makeshift thrown. “I am king, yet I have the worst view of the event. And what fool thought that jousting was a good idea in the middle of winter?”

“That would have been the Earl of Dillshire,” Misha said.

“He is a fool. If one of my horses is injured because of the slick ground, I’ll be most displeased. Make certain he hears of that,” Jensen ordered.

“Yes, Sire.”

“And Misha, next time you are to tell me of such insanity before it takes place. I have no desire to be unable to stop such a display, especially when given in my honor.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“And Misha?”

“Yes, Sire?”

“Put more cushions on the chair next time.”

“Ye… there is something wrong with the chair?”

Jensen squirmed uncomfortably and looked away. “I am sensitive,” he admitted.

Misha frowned. “It is early for that.”

“I know,” Jensen snapped back. “Yet it is what it is. Perhaps the winter’s coldness is making the – event come on sooner than normal. You know that it is only in the coldest of months that I become fertile.”

“We will have to step up the scheduling of the tests,” Misha noted as he motioned a herald over. “I will inform the council.”

“Why? Just pick one of them to rut me. It makes no difference,” Jensen said.

“Now you are just being maudlin because you are hormonal,” Misha said dismissively.

“I can still order you beheaded,” Jensen threatened. “It is a wonder you are not yet parted from your balls if you dismiss your wife in such a manner.”

“You would not decapitate me,” Misha reminded him, “then you would have to talk to the council yourself and listen to them bicker over their favorites.”

“Tell me they aren’t betting,” Jensen moaned.

Misha shook his head. “That is strictly forbidden.”

“I hear a ‘but’ in there.”

“But,” Misha allowed, “the guards are not held to such a standard nor are the scullery maids. It is also quite popular to bet on the suitors on market days, or so I’m told.”

“The winner so far?” Jensen asked wearily.

“Prince Jeffery of Morgan,” Misha informed him.

“The long shot?”

“Chieftain Padalecki of the Lekif clan.”

“Lekifs?” Jensen asked, perking up in his seat.

“They are camping on our boarders in the Blue Valley.”

“That is no place to be in this weather.”

 

“Apparently they find it to be quite the oasis,” Misha told him. “There has been much talk about their presence here.”

“Let them talk,” Jensen waved a dismissive hand at his people, making it look like a courtly wave at the last second. “The Lekifs are not any worse than some of the people that you have allowed Sebastian to put in my bed.”

“Yes, well, Sebastian is quite vehemently opposed to the inclusion of Jared in your suitor group.”

“Really? Then send this Chieftain Jared a token of my affection,” Jensen ordered. “Sebastian gets too large for his breeches some days.”

“I… we may have already sent one.”

“You favor him that much?”

“Not exactly,” Misha admitted.

Jensen scowled. “It is not kind to play games with a man’s head, Misha. Political concerns are your specialty, and I rely on your wisdom. But while this is not an affair of the heart, it is close enough to one. Do not forget that if one of those men gets his seed to take root, he will become my consort.”

“That thought, my king, is never far from my mind.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jared ached in ways that were most unpleasant. His body shook with chills and his muscles refused to move him from the pallet of furs he was rested upon. The combat displays had been brutal.

Oh, the council of observers had made certain that nothing had gotten life threatening, but Jared had been no match for anybody in that ring. The only task he could perform well was grappling with another, but even that was limited because of his lack of weight.

His sword technique was abysmal as was his ability with an axe, mace or flail. Thankfully, the flails used hadn’t had spikes on them. Jared was eternally grateful for that.

“Barbarians,” Thomas hissed as he entered the small room that Jared had been moved into. “They should be ashamed of themselves.”

“That they should be,” Adjunct Hodge said as he followed Thomas into the room.

Jared struggled to sit up, but his body spasmed as he tried to rise.

“Lay down,” Adjunct Hodge ordered him. “You have taken enough abuse for one day.”

“I have taken enough for a lifetime,” Jared informed him, “that does not give me an excuse to not rise in the mornings.”

“True, but for today you rest, and you can rest assured that you removed several of your competitors from their eligibility.”

“How?” Thomas asked. It was quite clear that Jared had not defeated a single opponent.

“Cruelty and malice is a trait that King Ackles does not want in his children. Any man who would continue to beat upon a defeated foe is not worthy to become a father.”

“Fantastic,” Jared wheezed, “I move up the ranks because I was the most obvious target and bruise so easily.”

“Wins should be savored for what they are so long as they are come by honestly,” Thomas reminded him.

“True,” Adjunct Hodge agreed, “which is why you are to be rewarded for your honesty.”

Jared’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Really?”

For the first time since Jared had met the man, Adjunct Hodge looked nervous. “There has been a change of plans in the testing of the suitors. The others wanted to disqualify you now because you are clearly unfit, but I argued that what had been done to you was not cause to eliminate you. It would be like punishing a man for allowing himself to be robbed.”

“Is he supposed to thank you for this honor?” Thomas hissed.

“I am, and I will,” Jared interrupted. “He has done our people a kindness, Thomas. Do not let your protection of me cloud your judgment.”

“Is it not enough that they seek to turn you into a whore? You now thank them for it?” Thomas asked.

“Would you rather your mother starve?” Jared snapped back. “Marriages are often arranged between royals, this is no different. If I had been born in my ancestor’s castle, I would have likely been married off to some girl whom I was encouraged to fall in love with because of her excellent breeding. I would have fathered her children.”

Thomas hung his head, but kept his tongue.

“What is the next test?” Jared asked wearily.

“Economic policies and debt collection,” Adjunct Hodge said. “There will be questions that you must answer on those topics. After that, you will be questioned about your stratagems of war and peace treaties.”

“Sounds fascinating,” Jared mumbled.

“I would suggest that you come up with a better solution than begging for improving economic conditions,” Hodge advised.

“I already have,” Jared reminded him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Misha,” Jensen said as he burst into his leader counselor’s rooms, “you need to make your decision.”

“You should be very glad that I had correspondence to write, otherwise you may have caught me in a decidedly compromising state of dress,” Misha chided.

“Now, Misha,” Jensen reiterated firmly. “Possibly hours ago if you can manage to turn back the hands of time.”

“Now?” Misha echoed dumbly.

 

Jensen nodded, tucking his dressing robe more tightly around himself. “Misha,” he said, “I need this one to stick.”

 

“You know that I have selected all of the candidates to…”

“This, this cycle is abnormal for me. I need it to stick, Misha. What if it is my last one?”

“You are worrying too much,” the soothing tone did nothing for Jensen’s fear. He could tell that Misha’s thoughts were travelling down the same path. Jensen’s fertility never ripened so early. Women who were nearing the end of their childbearing years would often begin to have irregular cycles.

Jensen couldn’t take a chance like that. He could not afford to miss out on his final choice.

“Decide. Bring him to me. I will be in my chambers waiting.”


	3. Chapter 3

"I don’t understand,” Jared said as he was escorted through the cold, marble hallways of the palace in the middle of the night. His body felt better after a few days of rest, but he was not up to trying a test of wits with only two hours of sleep to his name.

The prior day’s tests had been exhausting even though they were nothing more than mind teasers and hypothetical scenarios involving children, disputes amongst neighbors and discussions of land claims. He knew not what sort of test would involve being shaken awake and secreted away, but he did not think it would be a good one.

“Your testing was supposed to go on for a week yet,” the shorter man beside him stated.

Jared’s tired mind could barely focus, but he could pick out the word ‘was’ easily enough. Could they not have been kind enough to allow him to rest for the night before informing him of his departure? More importantly, would his people be allowed to stay in the valley until springtime?

What came out of his mouth was, “Might I at least have my boots if I am to be cast out?”

“You are not being cast out,” Misha told him. “You are being sent to his highness.”

“For what?” Jared asked dumbly.

Misha gave him a look of disgust. “I sincerely hope that your smaller head has a greater supply of blood than the one on top your shoulders.”

“What? But…” Jared didn’t know what protestation he wanted to make. Most of him had assumed that he would never be picked. His goal had been to stay eligible for as long as possible to maximize the length of his people’s welcome on Ackles’s land. He had hoped that doing well would curry favor and gain them a few more weeks after his dismissal, but the hope of actually copulating with the king had been slim.

Jared might not understand the intricacies of seaport and the pitfalls of secured mountain passes for trade routes, but he knew the details of his own people intimately. They were not welcomed.

“I hope for all our sakes that what is said about your genitals is true,” were the last words that Misha said to him before he was pushed through a rather ostentatious looking door.

The man standing in the middle of the bedroom had to be King Ackles. There was nobody else around, and if this was some sort of new test, it had to be a very elaborate one. Jared had heard whispered rumors of the king’s beauty from the other suitors. Some of them had been lewd and filthy when speaking of him. Their speech had been almost degrading, and Jared thought that they should be glad they had not made it as far as he had.

The man was gorgeous, but his bearing and look were deadly. He looked as if he owned the room, and Jared had seen no street actor ever manage to replicate a royal aura so well.

“Your Highness,” Jared’s knee cracked as he kneeled, but he ignored it.

“Please, disperse with the manners, you cock is going to be up my ass soon. Let us not pretend that you will be thinking of me as king at that point,” Jensen’s voice was rough and stern, but Jared could hear the fright beneath it.

He wondered what could scare a monarch so, but decided it was best not to ask. If it was Jared’s knot that had him vexed, that could not be stopped. If it was something else, they had no relationship for him to soothe those fears.

“I need you to fuck me,” Jensen said calmly as he released the tie to his robe. It fell around his ankles in a pool of crimson, leaving his body nude to Jared’s eyes. His own cock lay full, yet limp against his thigh. The curls of his groin were far more red in tone than that of his hair.

Jared felt shame for taking in such details first, but the goal was to become aroused. Looking at an appealing body could only help that.

Without another word, Jensen turned to crawl onto the bed in the room, leaning forward on his elbows and pushing his ass into the air.

“This way is best,” he said after a moment. “I am already slicked for you, you need only to push inside and take.”

Jared swallowed thickly and rose from his kneeling position, disrobing as he went. His cock had only partially thickened from the sight before him, so he reached between his legs to tug at his flesh, willing it to fill and lengthen.

Tentatively, he eased up onto the bed behind Jensen, arranging his legs to that he could better thrust once inside of the other man. Jared had taken lovers before, so he knew the mechanics of what he would be doing well enough.

But he had never knotted before. The risk of impregnation in women was too high, and the soreness that it caused in male partners was unwise with the amount of travelling they had to do.

When Jared sniffed the air, Jensen’s scent had barely a hint of arousal to it. The thought saddened Jared because he would not wish such a situation on anyone who had a scrap of kindness in them. But the scent of fertility was thick in Jared’s nostrils. He was used to smelling it on women, knew the scent intimately. If there was any doubt left in his mind that this actually was the king, it was gone now.

“Just put it in already,” Jensen ordered.

As serviceable and unexcited as Jared’s erection was, it still felt good to slide into Jensen’s body. Even though he was stretched and slick, he was tight. Jensen grunted and shifted under him, and Jared could smell that it wasn’t from enjoyment of their activities.

Jared began to pull out, but a frightened, “STOP!” halted his motions.

“You have to, please,” Jensen’s voice was small. His was a mouth not used to begging, and Jared could remember the days that he still could own that sort of pride. The times when his tribe was not so ragged, and his name was not hanging in tatters around him.

Jared shoved back in, burying his cock in one smooth stroke. He could do this; he would to it for the both of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jensen let his latest lover sleep once their rutting was complete. His ass throbbed, and he cursed the fact that he could not bring himself to touch his hole except when he was ‘in season.’ His curse had tainted the act though. He found that trying to keep himself looser to mitigate the pain of being taken during the winter only made him think about how barren he still was even for all of the fruitless, humiliating attempts he had made to mitigate it.

This time, his opening hurt far worse than the other attempts at breeding. Possibly because his ‘lover’ had managed to tie him like a dog, spilling what felt like five men’s seed into his body. Obviously, the Lekif had done better in the council’s trials than Misha had expected.

Or perhaps Misha had just been as scared as Jensen and gone to find the candidate that was most likely to impregnate him. Knots and overflowing streams of semen would likely be helpful for conception after all.

The man sleeping on the bed was frighteningly thin. He was not quite emaciated, but the bruises he was sporting did no favors to the ridges of bone that Jensen could see on him. The man was being starved like a dog.

Jensen threw his robe back on before tossing a blanket over the man’s nakedness. Then he rang for a valet.

“Bring me some bread from the kitchen, and tell Sebastian to personally deliver food and woolens to the Lekifs in Blue Valley,” he commanded.

“Yes, Sire,” the valet paused and looked at his king. “Would you like a bath drawn, Sire?”

“No,” Jensen said even though his skin was beginning to itch. “Not until morning.”

The Lekif’s seed was buried deep in his body, but there was no need to aid anything viable in escaping. Jensen had suffered through worse discomfort. The relief that he could gain from a bath was nothing that could not be forestalled for the greater good.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There were not many words spoken between Jared and the king the morning after he studded Jensen. The food brought to them was excellent, but few words were exchanged. What had there been to say?

Jensen had offered Jared the use of his bath, and was gone by the time Jared was finished. It was hardly surprising. Their joining had been one of need. There had been no great words of love exchanged between them nor had Jared expected there to be.

The fact that he had been selected for the night was nothing short of amazing to him. Though his fellow suitors had never deigned to talk to Jared much, what little he had heard only confirmed his suspicions that he was being tested harder than the others. There was little doubt in his mind that his fate in the pursuit of King Ackles’s bed was to be one of carefully plotted failure.

But that had changed. For whatever reason, Jared had bedded the reluctant ruler. He had only to bide out his time before he would be taking his oaths of fealty and in turn earning comfort and protection for his people.

It was a warm thought to cling to as he was escorted back to his camp in the Blue Valley. Even though the wind was biting and cold, the relief that Jared felt was immense. Though not infallible, Jared’s nose had assured him that he had been quite effective in quelling whatever sort of estrous cycle had been going on inside of the king’s body.

Jensen’s strong form was trying to take Jared’s seed and make a child with it. The smell was unmistakable. Not quite taken yet, no, but well on its way to being there.

There were no guarantees about it. Jensen’s body could still reject becoming with child. He could miscarry or perhaps find another to claim that he was the father of the unborn child.

It would not be difficult to claim such a thing. Jared had been taken to the royal chambers late at night. Only servants and one official had seen him, and rumors of truth were no match for documented lies.

But Jared clung to his faith in Jensen. He had no reason to think him to be trustworthy, save for the fact that he had Adjunct Hodge as one of his council members. Yet there was a feeling he had that Jensen would not betray his promises. The man certainly knew what it meant to be cursed.

Jared refused to dwell on what he might do if Jensen did try to claim Jared’s child as belonging to another. That would be unbearable, insufferable. Jared would die trying to see his firstborn’s face, but he would do everything within his power for that one last glimpse.

The thought was morbid and theatrical, so Jared cast it aside. He would wait out his time, catching and drying fish with his tribe. He had only to pass a little more time before their fortune would be forever turned, and he would keep telling himself that until it was true.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There were few things more mundane than hearing the pleas of delegates from other countries. Their words were always well crafted and the matters important, but they all wanted the same thing. Jensen’s favor was well sought, but his downfall was watched for with greedy eyes.

At first, such hunger had bothered him. That the same people who would curry his approval would gladly carve out a piece of his lands for themselves if the opportunity arose. The only difficulty was in determining who would fight with him before turning at the last moment.

True allies were scarce in Jensen’s region. Being the premiere ruler of the lands meant that he had no larger power to go cry unto. There was no larger target to hide behind.

In days past, that would not have been an issue. The strength of Jensen’s kingdom was unquestioned until the curse. Now each year brought another set of cracks in his country’s armor. The fissures widen with the insinuations and oblique threats of the end of Jensen’s dynasty. There have been too many visitors to his capital. The ambassadors come not just to whisper into Jensen’s ear but in the ears of others as well.

But that threat was a far off one. Jensen’s youth was fading, but it was not yet gone. A few more years were on his side before the effort to dethrone him would begin in force.

Motioning for his aides to call for a session break, Jensen rose from his throne and strode through the passageways to his chambers. Out of the sight of prying eyes, Jensen let his hand touch his warrior’s middle. Firm and segmented with muscle, he could scarcely imagine a child growing within him.

The sudden onslaught of his fertility coming early worried him. He knew that women when they reached the end of their child bearing years would have their cycles abruptly change on them. If the curse was patterning itself after a woman’s normal carrying pattern, Jensen had more trouble on his hands than he thought.

Outside the window of his chamber, he could see the trials for his suitors still taking place. Misha had assured him that it was for the best. Much as Jensen disliked the deception, he had to agree. There was no need for stories to leak out about the abrupt change his body had taken.

There was the matter of how he was going to explain the fact that Jared was chosen when he was not out amongst the remaining suitors. Surely his absence would be noted and quarreled over, but Misha said that he had a plan.

Jensen would very much like to see his friend have to back up his boast with action. For his people’s sake, Jensen wanted an heir. For Jensen’s sake, he’d like to see Misha dance before the demanding eyes of other suitors. It would be amusing.

He had not questioned Misha’s choice when he had gone to his advisor in the middle of the night. Jensen had long ago given away that power. It was his only means to detach himself from how horrid the entire process was. Being a brood sow to a group of men desperate to gain that edge on their competitors was not how Jensen had ever wanted to find his spouse.

Not even when he was young and thought that his marriage might be arranged to a princess or duchess that he had never met had he thought of those alliances as being nothing more than a means to an end. Certainly, there were those ladies who were treated as nothing but bartering chips, but never had that sort of intent been encouraged by Jensen’s father.

Jensen had been given a list of ladies with whom he was encouraged to correspond. Those that he was most interested in were pursued, but they had the right of refusal back. Not, Jensen acknowledged, that most of them would ever have told their parents that they did not want to be courted by Jensen. He was handsome, powerful and rich. Beyond that, his line was known for being fair.

Of course there were ladies who likely had other suitors, ones who owned their hearts. Jensen was not so naïve as to think that most of the ladies would have been strongly discouraged from ignoring his interest. But they were never chased after like a bitch in heat. At least, he had never done so.

Not that it mattered now. His fate was his fate. There had been no hope of a child born of his loins for what felt like ages. Every winter he would face his fate of tilting his ass up in offering to whatever ‘noble’ won the right to fuck him. The embarrassment of it was easier to bear if he did not know them.

“The guards say you broke session,” Misha’s voice did not startle Jensen. For as much as he was now protected and practically coddled, Jensen had first and foremost been a warrior prince. Not since he was ten had a member of the royal guard had to stay his hand for fear of injuring Jensen.

His gallantry and righteous deeds were already immortalized in song. His fearless nature and winning hand was what had gotten him cursed in the first place. But Misha was no powerful spell caster; his soundless footsteps were not nearly as quiet as he thought them to be.

“You heard me,” Misha observed.

Jensen shrugged and continued to look out the window. There had been times of late where Misha had succeeded in surprising him. His mind was preoccupied, and he had been feeling odd.

“I thought, perhaps, that you were not feeling well again,” Misha continued, undeterred by Jensen’s silence.

“I am a bit tired, perhaps, but only of being flattered by the tongue while being bit by the teeth,” Jensen informed him. “I have not miscarried.”

“You are blunt today,” Misha observed.

“Not truly,” Jensen said as he finally turned from the window to look at his aide. “I just know what it is that concerns you.”

“If I might be so bold, your highness has never been pregnant to miscarry before,” Misha said.

“If you might be so bold? Misha, since when are you not?”

The eyes regarding Jensen’s suddenly cut away instead of staring back. The action was uncharacteristic.

“Misha?”

“You have gone nearly two weeks without the rash,” Misha observed, “and you speak of miscarrying not missed conception.”

“Ah yes, the rash,” Jensen mused without humor. The witch’s parting gift to him. As if destroying his body was not enough for her, she made certain to ‘gift’ him with immense pain whenever he failed to fall with child. A prickling, painful heat that enveloped him from head to toe for three days each time he failed to become pregnant.

“Should I be cancelling the orders for ointments and soothing baths?” Misha asked.

“How would I know?” Jensen asked. “It is not as if I have a book on how all of this works. For all we know, the earliness of its coming has thrown everything else off course.”

“But you suspect,” Misha countered.

“I have suspected and hoped every single time I have been fucked, Misha. I do not wish to jump to conclusions. What if I am not with child? What then? I annul my marriage? It will not be popular for me to wed Jared in the first place.”

“There are ways around…”

“Do not say another word on that subject,” Jensen cut in. “My word is my oath. I’ll not raise one man’s child as another’s. It would be despicably wrong and evil. I might as well sign the destruction of my kingdom from the blood in my own veins.”

Misha looked pleased with his words, and it irritated Jensen that he was being tested. “Out,” he ordered abruptly, “it is not your place to try me like you try those fools out in the yard.”

“My Lord?” Misha stuttered.

Jensen nodded, “And you would do well to remember it. If you wish my opinion, Misha. You ask it. Now do share that bit of wisdom with the rest of my council, would you? Chieftain Jared will be treated as any other suitor, and his people as any other people. That is my final word on the subject.”

“Yes, Highness,” Misha said with an uncustomary bow.

Jensen frowned as the man left. More worry filled his belly. Misha had chosen Jared of all the suitors. For him now to be testing Jensen or even questioning him was unusual. There was division in the ranks of the council that was not being shared.

Jensen could feel it.


	4. Chapter 4

“Three months,” Matthew complained as he flopped down next to Jared. “We have been here three months.”

“And you think to complain about this?” Thomas asked from across the fire. “Be grateful for our reprieve, I say. There are far worse places to be.”

“There is no word from the castle,” Matthew pointed out, “no notes or summons. They kept those infernal trials going after Jared was sent back to us. Those circumstances do not disturb you?”

“We have eaten until our bellies were full. Smoked and even canned fish to take with us should our welcome be revoked,” Thomas pointed out. “What should it matter to us if they are playing games?”

“What if they intend to use us? Use Jared?”

“To what end?” Thomas asked, seemingly genuinely confused.

“Stud service! What else?” Matthew spat back. “Perhaps his lordship has a taste for knot now, or he…”

“Enough, Matthew,” Jared ordered. “You’ll not speak ill of the man who lets you use his ground for your pillow. It is rude.”

“But he…”

“Is with child, my child,” Jared told him flatly. “Otherwise we would no longer be here.”

“You have had word?” Thomas asked.

Jared shook his head. “I do not need word. I know what I smelled, and I know that a woman can easily lose a child in early stages of child bearing. There is no reason to suspect that his highness would not also fear this.”

“But he should know by now that you are father to his child,” Matthew argued.

“And you would marry me if you were with my child only? Or would you wait to make certain that you would not miscarry? We are unenviable in our plight,” Jared reminded him.

“What if he does not marry you at all? For all we know he lay with another after you and will pretend the child is his.”

“I do not think that King Ackles wants anybody in his bed,” Jared said, “and I doubt that he would have kept us around this long if he planned on duplicity. You forget that we could easily be made the trespassers. Ackles would not be naysaid if he claimed it.”

“You have too much faith in him,” Matthew accused.

Jared shook his head. “I have faith in his fears and in his honor, but more his fears. I am no threat to him.”

“No man is a threat to him,” Thomas countered. “I have been to the city, heard the gossip of the lands. They say that no country is as powerful as this one. Not for months of travel around.”

“Threat takes many forms, Thomas,” Jared reminded him. “Ackles does not want a man in his bed chamber who will threaten him. He needs a spouse that will not stab him in the back or try to usurp his throne. The wrong spouse can crumble a throne easier than a physical attack can. I pose no risk to him in this area.”

“You mean that he’ll have you on a choker lead, like a dog,” Matthew grumbled.

“I do not know,” Jared admitted. “I cannot know what matter of goodness is inside of him. I did not spend most of my time acquainting myself with his head. But I do know that we have little choice. The child he bears is my heir along with his. I cannot leave my own flesh and blood behind me. And even if we were to run, where would you suggest we go?”

Both Thomas and Matthew held their tongues and looked into the flames of the fire. Their silence was answer enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I grow tired of waiting, Misha,” Jensen snapped as he readjusted his robe. “Bring me Jared and have this, this charade done with.”

“The council,” Misha began again.

“Is replaceable!” Jensen finished for him. “Every last one of you is there by my appointment.”

“You know that would be foolish. No king is infallible in his judgments.”

“Especially when his fraught with nerves and imbecilic because he is with child?” Jensen challenged.

“I did not say that,” Misha said patiently. “I merely point out that you appointed us for a reason. You wanted diverse opinions and viewpoints.”

“And Aldis agrees with waiting?” Jensen asked.

“Adjunct Hodge is not the only voice,” Misha avoided the question.

“I half think that some of you wish me to miscarry,” Jensen accused as he stalked across the room to tower above his chief advisor. “Do you regret your choice now, Misha?”

Misha’s eyes cut to the side and came back. “The chieftain remains admirable in his honor and customs. I do not find him to be lacking in piety or politeness.”

“But you have come to worry over other things,” Jensen filled in for him.

“Morgan would have, perhaps, been a better choice,” Misha admitted, “less fraught with troubles, more politically advantageous. Some of our allies will be less than welcoming of a Lekif on the throne.”

“An Ackles,” Jensen corrected. “My line is unbroken for ten generations, and my child will be the eleventh. What are they afraid of? That his father’s blood will make him aggressive? I sincerely hope it so if they are so foolish.”

“Is war a craving of pregnancy now?” Misha asked. “I have not heard you speak this way before.”

“Because I have not had such cause to be angered,” Jensen replied tersely. “I have perhaps given our allies too much leniency. They have grown accustomed to dictating to me while my line was vulnerable, and now my council spends more time worrying over diplomacy than righteousness.”

“I do not think that righteousness…”

“Misha, at this moment I do not care what you think. My mind is made up on the matter. Your indecisions with the council are your own. I am giving an order. I trust that it is understood?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Good. Now summon the man to me before my marriage slips from the realm of scandal into farce.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Even though Jared had assured his men of his certainty, it was still a surprise when Jensen’s men came for him. He had become so accustomed to waiting that it seemed it was the only thing he knew how to do anymore. In fairness, it was not Jensen’s kingdom that had begun that trend in his life.

His hardships had taught him that the next bad thing was always just around the corner. The lesson was a hard one for Jared to accept. He was an optimist by nature, a victim of the gods of irony.

He was allowed two witnesses to the ceremony, but he chose to only bring one. While he did not doubt Jensen’s good intentions and felt he had an ally in Adjunct Hodge, Jared knew that there would be those who would seek opportunity wherever they could.

Matthew was a strong and capable leader, and his fires burned bright. If Jared was to choose a successor, he would choose Matthew over Thomas merely for the passion that boiled in his veins. His people needed all the zeal they could muster, and for that reason Jared took Thomas with him and left Matthew behind.

He would rest better once his marriage bed had been made, but until then Jared was not taking risks with his people’s welfare. If this turned out to be some type of elaborate trap or a test he would not walk away from, he needed his people in the best hands that he could leave them in.

The chapel that he and Thomas were escorted to was quaint and quiet. The candle holders were elegant but functional. There were no great ornaments meant to impress nor was it a chamber meant to house throngs of people.

“Chieftain,” Misha greeted him as he came into the chapel. “King Ackles will be joining us shortly.”

“He is well, I hope?” Jared answered. The move was likely one to remind Jared of his place, but there was a chance that something else was behind the wait.

“He is ill,” Misha said, “but not in any worrisome way. His mother spent long period in bed when she carried him. He upset her stomach greatly.”

“I feel as if I should apologize,” Jared said, trying to lighten the other man’s oddly somber mood.

“Don’t,” Jensen’s voice echoed in the chamber from the strength of it. “I am as I wish to be.”

Misha’s face twisted into an unpleasant scowl at that, but he didn’t say a word.

“We should, however, get the ceremony completed in all haste. I am not responsible for what my stomach chooses to do,” Jensen concluded as he walked up beside Jared.

“Marrying behind closed doors?” Thomas queried under his breath.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Jensen answered. “I am not well, and there are those who would try to stop this union. I am certain that you understand why. And it would do you well to remember that I have excellent hearing.”

“I am certain that Thomas meant no offense,” Jared hastened to assure his future husband.

Misha cleared his throat like he did not believe Jared’s words, but said nothing.

Jensen’s lips twisted into a grim smile. “And I am certain that he did, but it does not matter. This union is between the two of us, is it not? I have little patience left for the opinions of others at the moment.”

There was an entire army full of threat behind those words. Jared did not know what precipitated that ire, but he was confident that it was neither he nor his people. It would become his business shortly, but until then he had other matters to attend.

The marriage ceremony was simple. The vows of honor were easy as were the ones of fealty. Jared had long ago acknowledged that his people were broken and in a poor state of power. His union to Jensen would only strengthen them.

After the last words were uttered, Jensen leaned forward and sealed them with a kiss. It was gentle and chaste but not quick like Jared expected a perfunctory kiss to be. Instead Jensen almost lingered before pulling his lips away. Once he did though, his eyes cut immediately over to Misha.

The councilor nodded abruptly and said, “If you would follow me,” before walking briskly towards the antechambers of the chapel. From there he led them through a series of hallways that at one point Jared was certain wound underground.

He wasn’t surprised when they ultimately arrived in a small alcove in what looked like a very unremarkable passage. “A hidden passage?” Jared guessed out loud. He had heard of such things before. His ancestors were rumored to have a fondness for them back when Jared’s people lived in buildings instead of tents.

Jensen seemed pleased with his observation, smiling a little and nodding in confirmation. Misha made no acknowledgement that he even spoke, only moving again once he sealed the doorway behind them. Annoyance filtered through Jensen’s eyes, but he did not say anything. Instead he took hold of Jared’s hand, twining their fingers together in a proprietary way that Jared knew had little to do with Jensen’s favor towards him.

“As requested, your wedding banquet is presented in the royal study, your Highness,” Misha’s voice was oddly pleasant when he broke his silence. Jared had expected it to be full of tension or even anger, but it was only mellow.

“Thank you, Misha,” Jensen’s answer was polite, but still laced with warning. His fingers tightened on Jared’s as he led them both towards the head of the table.

Jensen sat first and motioned for Jared to take the seat to his right. Thomas scurried quickly to flank Jared’s other side while Misha took the chair to Jensen’s left. The guards remained standing.

“We should have a feast,” Jensen began as the servants ladled broth into their bowls. “Once I am able to stomach food again. It would be traditional, at least.”

Jared nodded his assent. Feasting would be traditional in most unions, he supposed. It was common place amongst his own people for a wedding, though ‘feast’ was a relative term for them.

“Of course,” Misha agreed steadily, “what would you like served?”

“Food,” Jensen said, “no dancing girls.”

Misha blanched at the words. “I am certain that we all remember your edict, Sire.”

“You should,” Jensen said as he scowled down at his soup as if it had mortally offended him. “What do you think, Jared?”

“About dancing girls?” Jared choked out.

That made Jensen smile. “No, about the food. I have little preference myself. There is always something to eat at a feast. But if there are traditional dishes that you would like to have served, Misha would be more than willing to ensure that they are present.”

“Oh, anything I suppose,” Jared hedged. Thomas cleared his throat unhappily.

“Sir… Forgive me, I do not know your name,” Jensen said towards Thomas.

“Thomas,” Thomas supplied, “and I am not a sir.”

Jensen frowned and tuned towards Misha. “Arrange a knighting ceremony. Aldis will discuss the details with Jared.”

“Pardon?” Jared squeaked out.

“I cannot have your lead men wandering about untitled,” Jensen explained. “It would be bad for establishing your presence in the kingdom. Titles bring some modicum of respect with them and so will help to smooth the transition. But more to the point, Sir Thomas seemed like he had something to say.”

“My chieftain forgets our sacrament of bread,” Thomas said.

Jared scowled. He didn’t forget it. He purposely did not mention it.

“You do not need to do such things,” Jensen immediately offered. “I am open to adopting any sort of festivities that are traditional for your people provided that they do not become contrary to my own.”

Thomas laughed at that. “He does not mention it because he hates the taste of the cakes.”

“They are salty and overly seasoned with fennel seeds,” Jared complained.

“They are meant to remind us of the earth,” Thomas chastised him.

“I sometimes think they will put me in the earth,” Jared countered.

“Misha, have the cooks obtain the recipe for theses cakes from Jared’s people,” Jensen commanded. “As much as it may pain our new prince consort, we should honor his people’s traditions.”

“I should’ve left you back at the camp,” Jared said to his friend.

“Perhaps, to make it up to him,” Thomas suggested, “you would consider having something sweet as well?”

“Thomas,” Jared hissed, “I do not need any such favors.”

Thomas ignored his outburst. “He has a bit of a sweet tooth,” he explained to Jensen instead.

“Is that so?” Jensen seemed amused by the notion. “Misha…”

“I’ll make certain that the pastry chef is given as much assistance as required,” the man interrupted. “I do know how to perform my duties, Jensen.”

Jensen scowled at him, but did not correct him for not using his title. Jared just sipped on the soup that he’d been given and contemplated how horrible it would be to ask for more bread to go with it.

A clattering spoon interrupted his thoughts as Jensen stood abruptly and hurried from the room.

“Morning, noon and night,” Misha sighed as he motioned toward servants. “Bring plain bread and water to his highness’s chambers.”

“Should I go after him?” Jared asked, uncertainly. It would not do to start his marriage off with poor etiquette.

“Only if you wish him to take his ire out on you,” Misha answered. “He is always miserable when ill. Besides, you’re eyeing the bread like you’ve married it instead of Jensen. I think that you should probably eat first. One needs one’s strength for his wedding night.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bedchambers were as comfortable as they had always been. Jensen hadn’t felt ill at ease in them since he first took them over after his father’s passing, and he found it odd that he still did not. The dry and bland bread that the cooks had sent was settling in his stomach with little problem, but no illness left him with time to worry.

He hadn’t shared his bed with another for what felt like ages. Once his bed sport had been reduced to endless attempts to impregnate him, Jensen had made a point to not sleep with his partners afterwards. The ones he favored, he would allow to rest while he rose and attended to other business. The ones he didn’t were unceremoniously tossed out to wait out their fates elsewhere.

Jensen was happy that the man that finally impregnated him belonged to the first group instead of the latter. He had no desire to be wed to a man that he despised. There were enough of those marriages in the world.

The doors to his chamber opened with a creak an audible warning that Jensen’s father had insisted upon. He had wanted to be able to wake if an intruder came into his room while he was sleeping. Jensen had thought it paranoid when he was younger. It was only when he became better acquainted with politics that he came to appreciate his father’s thoughts on the matter.

“You look better,” were the words that Jared greeted him with. He fiddled with the cuffs of his tunic and looked as lost as a little boy. If Jensen had not known for certain that the man had led a life of hardship, he’d find himself doubting it for all the innocence his husband was exuding.

“Nausea is not my finest look,” Jensen acknowledged as he moved from his desk. Instead of walking to his husband, he moved towards the bed, loosening his robe as he went.

When he turned around, Jared was still standing in the same spot he had been before. His eyes were fixed on Jensen. His hands that were so mobile only seconds before were completely still.

“You should come over here,” Jensen said softly.

“I’m sorry,” Jared apologized as he moved over. “I just thought that we might get better acquainted first.”

“I have read your stipulations and agreed to them. You have read mine, and you have already been… inside of me,” Jensen pointed out. “That is far more than many married couples have before they come to their marriage bed.”

“You say ‘inside’ as if it is something distasteful,” Jared observed.

“It is,” Jensen told him.

Jared took a half step back as if slapped.

“Not you, of course, at least not specifically,” Jensen clarified. “I simply mean that the act is not exactly pleasurable for me anymore. Of course, there is only one way for me to conceive, so it will be a necessity again sometime in the future.”

“But not tonight?” Jared guessed.

Jensen felt a bit of relief at that. His husband was at least capable of listening to words unsaid and comprehending. He’d been bedded by far too many men whose only redeeming virtue had been their standing in society.

“I will not force the issue. We can wait for consummation until one of us is ready,” Jensen hedged. He had no desire to force his spouse into the same unenviable position of having to perform a sexual act that he did not, at least on some level, desire.

Jared’s eyebrow rose up his high forehead as if reaching for the skies. “That would be most unwise. Truthfully, I think it unfeasible. Say I waited until you were ready. That would be past the birth of our child to the point of conception for the second. That is not a safe amount of time to delay consummation.”

Jensen nodded for he thought the same thing himself. Still, he needed to make the offer for his own conscience if nothing else. “I’ll not be laying for you like that,” he said to make himself clear, “but I still expect absolute faithfulness. I catch you in another’s arms you will not enjoy the consequences.”

“I read the papers,” Jared answered evenly.

“And I am making sure you understand them,” Jensen said. “I’ll not rest at throwing you out of my halls. I will take from you what you value most.”

“And what would that be?” Jared asked.

“Your people,” Jensen stated simply.

Jared’s face showed surprise.

“Ah, you think that because they are such an obvious burden that I would not guess their meaning to you,” Jensen teased. “You forget that I was born into the same situation as you. Of course, I can feed the bellies of my citizens, but they are still a strain. But it is our duty to love them since our births.”

“Not all rulers feel that way,” Jared pointed out.

“And they are fools for it,” Jensen countered. “Aldis would not have championed you so if he thought you to be a fool. His feelings run strong.”

“Adjunct Hodge’s faith flatters me,” Jared said meekly.

“Aldis,” Jensen corrected, “you should be on a given name basis with your official state advisor.”

“Might I ask if that is your assignment or his request?” Jared queried.

Jensen shrugged his robe from his shoulders and hung it on a hook that was on the tall bedpost at the foot of the bed. “My assignment,” he said. “I rarely see Aldis as impassioned about a subject as he was about you. I think he might’ve cried had you not become his prince consort.”

“And here I thought I was your prince consort.” The words were said with a slight flush on Jared’s cheeks, but he maintained eye contact without looking away like a scared virgin.

“Indeed,” Jensen said as he strolled closer, “you seek to flatter me now?”

“It crosses my mind that doing so would be advantageous,” Jared admitted. His eyes were starting to dilate and his breath was coming faster.

“Perhaps you should disrobe then,” Jensen suggested, his fingers drifting close enough to rest on the belt wrapped around his husband’s waist.

“Okay,” Jared croaked.

Finding relief in how uncomfortable Jared appeared to be was perhaps cruel, but Jensen felt more at ease seeing it. His own fears seemed less when he knew that Jared had some of his own.

As a kindness, Jensen turned his back while Jared disrobed. Neither of them were in the throes of passion. To stare at each other while stripping would be supremely awkward. With that in mind, Jensen divested himself of the dressing gown he had just put on. They could be intimate without being naked, of course, but that would establish the wrong tone for their marriage.

Though their match was not one of love, Jensen wanted honest and openness. No man was more vulnerable than a naked one.

A soft gasp had Jensen turning around. Jared’s eyes were fixed on him again, but they were staring hungrily at his stomach instead of his ass.

“You are very round,” Jared explained. “You did not look it earlier.”

“Carefully tailored clothing,” Jensen dismissed. “Misha has made practice of not informing the people of the results of, well, let us just call them what they are, my breedings. He felt from the beginning that there might be dissent, that there would be those seeking to end a pregnancy of an alliance they did not favor. So my robes are designed to give no hint of whether or not one of my partners was successful. This is the first time they have actually concealed anything.”

Jared shifted awkwardly. His hands clasped together before him as if holding himself still.

“You can touch it, if you desire,” Jensen gave permission.

Warm hands were cupping the bump almost instantly. Jared’s hands were huge, dwarfing the small protrusion. “My child,” Jared whispered as if entranced. He knelt down on the floor and pressed a kiss to Jensen’s bellybutton.

The scene was oddly intimate. It made Jensen feel almost like an intruder. “I fear that you will be of no help at all when he needs discipline,” Jensen quipped uncomfortably.

Jared looked up at him, pulling his lips at least away from Jensen’s skin, but not his hands. “I did not think I would ever become a father,” he said. “Our numbers dwindle, and with it our health, even when we are fed.”

Jensen swallowed and took hold of the hands on his stomach, urging Jared to his feet. The man was thicker than he had been when he had impregnated him. Yet Jared’s bones were still visible, his muscles lean and wiry, but not strong. Jensen tried to keep his eyes away from the still unattractive cut of his hipbones and the way that his ribs were too easily counted, but he failed.

“I know,” Jared said as he reclaimed a hand and ran it over his thin form. “But your graciousness has saved us from far worse than this.”

“I have not been gracious enough if this is how you still look after three months,” Jensen noted bitterly.

“No?” Jared seemed almost amused. “Allowing us to rest at all was gracious. We have been fed and have drunk clear water. The winter was vicious and promised to end all of our lives, yet we were able to camp in a sheltered place. I can think of no other kingdom that would allow that.”

“Being better than the rest does not make me right, Jared,” Jensen told him as he turned away.

Jared’s hands landed on Jensen’s hips, his lips pressed against the jut of his shoulder. “I do not wish to quarrel with you. Can we leave the philosophy until tomorrow?”

“We can,” Jensen allowed, “but then we are back to facing the bed.”

“I am not scared of it,” Jared said.

“You should be,” Jensen told him.

Another kiss was placed on his shoulder. “I have faced down far worse fates than having a cock shoved inside of me in the name of union.”

Jensen nodded, a jerky, halting movement. “They will want… They will come to see if it has been done.”

“I expected as much,” Jared allowed. “My ass is very comely.”

The words startled a laugh out of Jensen’s mouth. “You are most inappropriate,” he said as he turned in Jared’s arms.

His husband simply grinned back at him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You caused this!” Sebastian’s words echoed through the council halls as he stomped towards Aldis.

“The pregnancy?” Aldis questioned. “I am certain that King Jensen would not attempt to pass my child off as the Lekif’s. It would be most difficult once the child is born.”

“You know what I mean!” Sebastian yelled. “Even now logistics teams are moving them into our cities. Jensen wants them protected until they can start breaking ground on their own homes. Homes! We might as well burn effigies of our best allies and set them on our highest hills!”

“Your exaggerations are amusing, but childish,” Aldis scolded him. “I do not disagree that there will be trouble, but not to the level that you are insinuating.”

“And that is why you should not be on this council. You think nothing of sending our king to sleep with a dog,” Sebastian scoffed. “You might as well have sent one of the hounds to bed him.”

Aldis did not rise to the insult on his honor. He merely replied, “I do not think that the king would look favorably on you besmirching the prince consort’s name in such a manner.”

Sebastian glared at him. “They married in the night. That alone is proof enough that the marriage is a poor one.”

“You are just jealous that you were not invited, didn’t even know about it until Misha made the announcement. Or perhaps you are angry that my champion was chosen? Or that he was the only one to ever be successful at his task?”

“Or perhaps,” Aldis said as he rose from his desk, “it is the sound of jubilation that grates on you so. Tell me, does the happiness of the people hurt your ears after so many years of silent mourning?”

“The people,” Sebastian spat out, “are not politicians. They know not what sort of snare they have been led into. Most of them have never heard of the Lekif pack. Word has not reached their ears because none ever thought that group would ever travel so far or would live so long.”

“Tribe,” Aldis corrected, “they are a tribe and a fierce one.”

“Fierce,” Sebastian scoffed.

“You would call their survival something else? You mock what is most admirable. You say that they should have died out long ago, yet here they are. I, for one, believe that these are the sort of traits that one should seek in an alliance. Our future ruler should be strong and capable under all conditions.”

“We will be besieged by those seeking to ruin us. Our future ruler, as you so call it, will be a child of two curses. We should be busy buying horses, not breaking lands for the dogs to settle amongst us. Perhaps the Lekifs can teach us how to run in fear. If our horses are fast enough, a few of us might survive long enough to hobble along in the wilderness.”

“You are a bigoted man,” Aldis told him. “Your dealings as an ambassador have made you jaded and narrow minded.”

“And you are transposing your own history onto a group of people who are dangerous,” Sebastian accused.

“I don’t like you,” Aldis retorted.

“That feeling,” Sebastian replied, “has become mutual.”


	5. Chapter 5

Living in a castle was odd to Jared. He hadn’t thought it would be so, but so many years spent traveling had not accustomed him to a stationary life. By no means did he miss the constant search for food and shelter, but too many days spent sitting by Jensen’s side, listening to doom callers and sycophants left him itching for movement.

For his part, Jensen seemed to adapt well to having Jared around. He wasn’t affectionate, but he was civil and considerate. Before Jared could voice his discomfort at being location bound, he found himself touring the kingdom with Aldis, scouting locations for his tribe to settle.

When Aldis was not available, Jared was with Misha, going about the cities spreading charity to the unfortunate or investigating claims of abuse from those left in power. It was familiar to Jared and made him feel far less impotent than sitting by Jensen’s side did.

His tongue was not skilled at political talk beyond begging. Listening to men that would just as soon knife him was not a palatable way for Jared to spend his days. Not, that he suspected that Jensen enjoyed it either, but he was at least familiar with it.

The problem with traveling so much was that Jared spent time away from his husband. Without time, their relationship was slow to grow. It wasn’t intolerable, simply unfortunate. Jensen seemed to be a fair king and a pleasant man. If Jared had ever thought he would have a choice in the person he courted, Jensen might have been on his list.

Jensen was a handsome man, fetching even. Nothing drove that fact home more than Jared returning home. Time spent away dulled his memories of the king. While Jensen’s expanding middle was a fact that Jared was not exaggerating, his growing beauty certainly was.

Still, every time that Jared came back to the castle, he was confronted by Jensen’s face. The cut of his jaw or the green of his eyes would catch him, and he would stare for a few moments before gather his wits. He supposed that these sorts of things were what men thought about when there wasn’t a constant tug of hunger in their bellies.

In truth, being well fed was the hardest thing for Jared to accustom himself with. It was not the constantly changing wardrobe, though the array of robes and tunics and breeches was hard to grasp when he was used to having so little. It was not the feeling of a circlet around his head whenever he accompanied Jensen to a function or the need to stay a half step behind his husband at these times.

No, it was definitely how strange it felt to not hunger. His body felt good. His face looked younger when filled out with fat and strength, and his lungs did not weary themselves when he walked.

But for all the wonders that reliable food and shelter had caused in his life, Jared had not expected his libido to become so rampant. He had felt the tug of arousal before, of course he had. But never had it been so pervasive inside of him.

What worse was how good that Jensen smelled. He wasn’t fertile; Jared’s seed had seen to that. But his scent was one of health and motherhood mixed with the strength of musk that only masculinity could provide. It was alluring, desirable in ways that Jared would never dare voice.

He heard what was said about him and his people. They were called dogs or wolves, mere steps away from being beasts. Jensen did not treat him that way though. He acted as if Jared was any other man who had the pedigree to marry a king. Jared did not wish to jeopardize that by going on about how good his husband smelled to him.

But Jared’s body disagreed with him. Often it would pull him out of sleep, body hard and sometimes even leaking with want. It was only a matter of time before Jensen noticed, but that time came all too soon as far as Jared was concerned.

“Jared?” Jensen asked beside him, his voice muzzy from sleep.

“Rest,” Jared hushed him.

“I would if I could,” Jensen said, “but somebody keeps waking me.”

“My apologies,” Jared whispered back.

Jensen made a dismissive grunt and moved to light a candle by their bedside. Jared flinched away from the light, certain that Jensen could read his face now that he could see.

“What is troubling you?” Jensen asked.

“Nothing,” Jared answered honestly. There were always worries and concerns in his head, but his body’s yearnings were not in the same category as the sorts of troubles that would part a man from his sleep. At least, not in the way Jensen was thinking.

“Nothing?” Jensen repeated. “Men do not lose rest over nothing.”

“I am not troubled,” Jared clarified.

“You are not… Oh,” Jensen said. Jared had to look away as realization dawned, not wanting to see the mask of duty settle on Jensen’s features.

“I told you that I would be willing to accommodate you in that area,” Jensen’s words were almost chiding.

“I do not need assistance,” Jared bit out shamefully. He did not need it, but he did want it. He enjoyed sleeping next to Jensen when they were both in the palace at the same time. And Jensen never banished him from the royal chambers or asked him to sleep elsewhere. The heat of another body was comforting, and Jared cherished the chance to be so close to his child, to be able to touch what Jensen allowed no other to touch.

Jensen’s hand slid over Jared’s thigh, rucking up his dressing gown as it went. “Tell me to stop if you don’t like it,” Jensen whispered.

How was Jared supposed to bring the word ‘no’ to his lips? His body was aching for a touch that wasn’t his own. His manhood was hard and making it difficult to think beyond his next breath.

Then Jensen’s hand slid under Jared’s garments, and difficult became impossible.

“Ah,” Jared choked out a whimper as the strong hand wrapped around his cock, stroking up and down his length with even strokes.

“Feels good?” Jensen purred more than asked.

Jared whined in the back of his throat and thrust up into his husband’s grasp in response.

“It has been a while,” Jensen commented as he swiped his thumb over the head of Jared’s penis, smearing his precome around the crown of it.

“Yes,” Jared hissed out though whether her was agreeing with Jensen’s observation or encouraging his actions, not even he was certain.

There wasn’t much sound in the room other than the two of them breathing. Jared could hear the way that Jensen’s palm was tugging over his manhood, could hear the sound of his own pants, and Jensen’s own grunts as he worked his hand faster.

“Do you want?” Jared’s mouth refused to form the question completely, but his hand managed its way to Jensen’s lap, pressing gently against the swell of flesh that it found there.

“Yes,” Jensen whispered, his free hand tugging at his dressing gown to pull it up his legs.

Jared batted the hand way replacing it with his own, skimming along the skin of Jensen’s thighs as he pushed the linen cloth out of his way. Gathering Jensen’s cock into his hand was a touch awkward given their positions, but the please rumble that Jensen let out at his touch was more than worth the slight strain on Jared’s wrist.

They stroked each other, first gently and then hard as their pleasure mounted. Jared lost his sense of time as his mind battled between feeling his pleasure and giving Jensen his. But soon enough he felt his knot starting to swell at the base of his cock. Thick and hard it bulged out. Jensen’s fingers brushed against it on their down stroke a few times before Jensen shifted his weight.

The movement caused Jared to lose his grip. He opened his mouth to ask why Jensen was moving, but the feeling of Jensen’s other hand wrapping around Jared’s know and squeezing only made him utter unintelligible syllables. He couldn’t help but orgasm, thick pulses of his seed racing out of him to pool onto his gown and naked thighs. It slid over Jensen’s fingers, making their strokes smoother as they rubbed over Jared’s sensitized skin.

“Feels good?” Jensen teased, smugness dancing on his lips.

Jared grunted and grabbed Jensen’s dick in response, tugging on it hard and fast to bring Jensen over the edge. Jensen growled and tightened his grasp on Jared’s still pulsing dick in response, milking him though it wasn’t necessary.

As Jared’s heart quit pounding and his brain began to function again, he was aware of two things. The first was that Jensen had slumped against him. Head resting on Jared’s shoulder, he looked pale and exhausted. The second was that Jensen’s output wasn’t nearly the same quantity of what Jared had let loose.

“You are not well,” Jared fretted, wiping the backs of his fingers across Jensen’s brow. His concern made Jensen smile.

“I am fine, just tired,” Jensen dismissed.

“No,” Jared argued, “being tired does not cause, it doesn’t cause that.”

Jensen pulled his head from Jared’s shoulder. “I would’ve thought that you knew that most men are not… constructed the way your people are.

Jared huffed. “I’m not stupid. I know that you do not have a knot. I mean the quantity of your seed.”

Jensen arched an eyebrow at him. “That is very normal, Jared. Surely you remember our wedding night?”

That night was seared into Jared’s memory, yes. They coupling had been static, perfunctory. There had been no passion between them nor had either of them desired it at the time. But Jensen’s release had felt like so much more when it was inside of him.

And Jensen had not been well immediately preceding their coupling. It was only natural for him to assume that Jensen was not producing properly. To learn otherwise was mortifying.

Jared was well aware of the differences in the biology of his people. The knots and the hearing and the smelling… just all of those ‘wolf like’ attributes that were so abhorred by the ‘normal’ peoples. He knew that there was some talk of having a slightly heavier load of seed, but not to the level that the bed sheets were displaying.

It was embarrassing. Jared could see where one might call it disgusting. To him it was normal, but surely Jensen had other feelings about it. Surely the maids would laugh at him when they took away the sullied linens for washing.

“It is fine,” Jensen soothed him. “It is what your body does.”

“It is unnatural,” Jared scoffed.

“So is this,” Jensen said as he placed a hand on the swell of his stomach, “but you do not hear me cursing his existence.”

“You truly mean to tell me that you do not care?” Jared asked with defiance and disbelief.

“I care,” Jensen assured him. “But I only care in so much as it means that I will likely conceive another child. Aldis may have championed you for your good virtues, but I have no doubt Misha picked you for your more… physical attributes.”

“Proven stud service,” Jared jested, an uncomfortable feeling settling in his stomach.

Jensen shrugged. “I wish I could tell you otherwise. But then I wish that we could have courted in a proper manner. I have wished that with all of my partners since the curse, and there have been many. Compared to the deceit and depravity I have seen in my attempts to conceive, I don’t find a bit of extra seed to be so large a concern.”

“And if I am concerned about it?” Jared asked.

“I know not why you would be. Do you intend to break your vows of fidelity? Or have you always disliked your manner of copulation?”

“I worry about the politics of it,” Jared told him. “Servants gossip.”

“So they do,” Jensen agreed. “But wagging tongues about your virility are the least of our problems. If any has a strong enough objection, they are more than welcome to have a taste of my blade.”

Jared startled at his words. “You would do that?”

“Jared, I do not take my vows lightly. To do elsewise when your name is maligned and ridiculed would make me an infidel. Besides, there is more to a man than his spunk.”

“I suppose that there is,” Jared admitted as he started to ease into a resting position.

Jensen’s hand stopped him. “Though I am more than willing to defend your honor, I think that we might want something a bit drier to sleep in.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pregnancy was not the most comfortable of conditions. Jensen was more than happy to be heavily swollen with child, but his feet hurt if he stood for too long and his behind ached if he sat. There were whispers and rumors about how a man’s body was just not built to handle having a child, but he ignored those whispers. Women, after all, weren’t the ones gossiping about how unnatural Jensen’s pains were.

Resettling the Lekifs throughout the land was going slowly. Their fabled skills in farming were generations out of practice. Their skills were excellent for a nomadic living, but adapting that into something more stationary proved difficult.

The leatherworkers were thrilled with the resourcefulness of Jared’s people, but there were only so may leatherworkers needed in the kingdom. The same went for tent makers and most innkeepers already had cooks on staff.

For as small a group as Jared’s tribe was, they had troubles finding proper situations for themselves. It did not help that there was a great deal of distrust being stirred up in certain parts of the kingdom. It was more than just general suspicion and fear. There were too many doors being closed in too concentrated of an area.

Still, whoever was poking the fires of discontent was being careful about it. The complaints and quarrels over Jensen’s heir were minor. The child would be half Lekif by blood, but the people appeared fine with that. They were of the opinion that Jensen’s noble blood would overpower the ‘dark’ blood of his husband.

It was utter nonsense, but there were more important matters to attend to when there was no immediate threat. Jared and Aldis had done well with placing the Lekifs in small clusters of settlements around the kingdom. Jensen had been very careful when he worded his request that they not all settle into one spot.

They needed the support of their people, but Jensen could ill afford to allow them to become segregated. Beyond the obvious difficulties that he would be creating for either himself or his heir a decade or so down the line, Jensen could not give over that much land in one place to the people.

As it was, he was having troubles with his council coming to an agreement over the repayment terms. Jensen could grant land to whoever he wished, but there was a matter of pride and fairness. Jensen hadn’t given out lands to his original peoples just because he could. Assistance was different from charity.

It seemed like an easy enough task for some of the brightest minds in the kingdom to come up with a general pricing scheme complete with acceptable repayments, but the council bickered unceasingly. Sebastian was overly strict. Aldis was overly generous. Misha was pulling out his hair from their arguments, and the rest were simply bickering amongst themselves. They took sides that they never voiced in the meetings for fear of garnering the wrath of either Sebastian or Aldis.

The whole administrative debacle is wearing on Jensen. He knew that his marriage to Jared and adoption of his people would be difficult. He just didn’t think that his council needed to go quite so out of their way to make it more so.

“Lord Vanes of Marquette wishes to be presented,” the herald at the foot of Jensen’s dais interrupts his funk. Holding open court was a bit tedious on the best of days, but it was worse with Jared there.

While he appreciated Jared’s input and earnest dedication when he was taking up residence on the smaller throne next to Jensen’s, he also was left with more time to brood. Less important decisions or declarations, he would hand over to Jared to decide. The best way for a man to gain respect was to earn it, and Jared’s rulings had thus far been fair.

But Jensen could not just leave the room while Jared was listening to whatever squabble the land barons were having that month. The king could not just leave the prince consort to rule while he took a stroll in the gardens. That would look poor.

“He will be heard,” Jensen told the herald.

The emissary walked in with the smooth, confident stride of a man who had spent ages at court. Not cocky, for he was seasoned, but not without menace either. His eyes hesitated as they skipped over Jared’s form, but they quickly focused back on Jensen with a glint of determination in them.

“King Ackles,” he greeted with a bow.

Jensen nodded and made motion for the man to rise. “To what do I owe your visit?” Jensen asked.

“Your husband, sire, is of great concern to your neighbors to the north.”

Jared’s postured changed slightly beside Jensen, but there was no other movement from him. A quick glance at his face showed that he was wearing an expression of open earnestness.

“What of him?” Jensen asked.

“The Lekif blood is tainted. To allow it such closeness to your throne is madness,” the delegate explained.

“My blood,” Jared said, “was cursed long ago. But I assure you that I am not here to cause war or hate.”

“Dogs,” the delegate sneered. “You think us to be stupid enough to trust a pack of wolves?”

“I think you to be foolish enough to insult my husband in front of me,” Jensen said as he awkwardly rose from his throne. “What sort of errand are you on that you bring such insult to my halls?”

“We are not above taking action if this man is not removed from your bed,” the delegate retorted. “We have skilled swordsmen, and your people will follow us.

“My people are just that, mine. And my army could crush yours tenfold,” Jensen dismissed. “You bring nothing but fear and hatred to the bargaining table.”

“Perhaps we should discuss some of your concerns,” Jared suggested.

“Hush, dog,” the delegated ordered before turning to Jensen. “Can you not even keep him muzzled?”

Jensen scowled at the man before lunging and pulling the ceremonial sword from Lord Vane’s own scabbard. The weight of the child inside of Jensen made his movements less graceful and sure than he normally would be while wielding a weapon, but he had far too long with a blade in his hand to have it be less than an extension of him.

Lord Vanes scrambled out of the way of his approach, but Jensen’s was still faster. The tip of the blade was still sharp, and Jensen made quick work of the crotch of the man’s breeches. He did not take care to keep from slicing into his skin. In fact, he let the blade slip a bit more to ensure it.

“I,” he said, “will not allow my husband to be spoken of in such a manner. And I will not be threatened in such a manner again. As you can see, my blade is swift and vicious. If your people try to attack, I will be more than willing to either expand my lands or the lands of my true allies. Do I make myself clear?”

“As the sky on a sunny day,” Lord Vanes answered him.

“Good,” Jensen said, turning and walking away. “Guards, escort this man back to his horse. I am certain that a saddle rubbing against his injuries should help him remember the message.”

“My sword,” the delegate protested.

“Is quite pretty,” Jensen said. “My husband thanks you for the gift.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jared stared at the crib sitting in the corner of their bedchambers. Its dark wooden sides were intricately carved and smoothed into a twisting pattern of vines that held all manner of small woodland creatures in its branches. The pillows inside of it were softer than the ones that Jensen rested his head upon at night. The crest of the Ackles was affixed to the foot of the crib, pure gold and shining in the sunlight.

When Jared had been born, his father had shared the last of his mead with the people, but Jared had been swaddled in worn woolen blankets and a leather satchel that had held many children before him. He could not begrudge his child having the best, not when that child would be the heir to so large a kingdom. Yet he felt quite out of sorts when confronted with it.

What could he possibly hope to offer a child who was born into such comforts? He knew how to survey a land and force it to yield food when it had seemingly been plucked dry. He knew how to make one mouthful stretch into several. He knew how to run when there was no muscle on his legs.

These were not skills that he ever hoped to teach his child. But they were what he knew. Jensen would teach their child politics. Jared was good at diplomacy, but Jensen had been born into ruling a kingdom, Jared a tribe. There was a difference between the two no matter how similar they were.

“You look as if the crib offends you,” Jensen said as he waddled into the room. His legs were bowed out in a fashion that had made many a man turn his head and laugh. Jared had managed to curb his own impulses in the name of marital felicity, but it was not Jensen’s finest appearance.

“I am not used to such things,” Jared explained.

“Mmm,” Jensen hummed thoughtfully.

“You are back early from your council meeting,” Jared noted, eager to take his focus away from the crib and his own thoughts.

Jensen groaned and waddled over to the padded sitting bench that was placed before one of the windows of the room. “Aldis is annoyed with Sebastian for the extra care he is taking in courting some of our less than pleased neighbors. Misha is more than annoyed by them both, and I am far too tired to deal with any of them.”

“I do not know why you listen to Sebastian at all,” Jared said as he came to kneel by his husband’s side, close and attentive, but not touching.

“You are transparent,” Jensen informed him as he took hold of Jared’s hand and brought it to his stomach. “You crave touch like a…” Jensen trailed off, a look of discomfort creeping into his eyes.

“Like a dog?” Jared suggested for him.

“I did not say that,” Jensen defended himself, even as color rose to his cheeks.

Jared did not remove his hand. Instead he brushed across the taut roundness with small strokes. “You perhaps should,” he said carefully. “I am well aware of what I am, Jensen. You might make decrees all the day long, but at the end of the day I am still bear the curse of the wolf in my veins.”

A grunt of disgust came out of Jensen’s lips. “And do I bear the curse of a woman then? You believe the lies of other men about your own people.”

“You are pregnant,” Jared pointed out gently.

“I am not defined by it,” Jensen told him.

“No, I suppose you are not,” Jared admitted. For certain it was greatly talked about. It would always be spoken of when his legacy was written, but it was not all that he was.

“You are in a darker mood than I,” Jensen accused as he twined his fingers with Jared’s, stopping the gentle stroking that Jared had been doing. “Let us think of happier things.”

“Like what?” Jared asked.

“The baby,” Jensen decided. “If you could choose, what would you like the sex to be? A boy or a girl?”

“A girl,” Jared answered almost immediately. “I would like a girl.”

“Truly?” Jensen’s face showed surprise.

“You would not want a girl?” Jared challenged.

“I was just expecting a more traditional answer. Most men would want sons or not care so long as the child was healthy,” Jensen explained.

Biting his lip, Jared chose his words carefully. “I want our child to feel as little suffering as possible. I want our grandchildren to be as others are.”

Jensen did not let him slide with his answer. “Meaning?”

“The females of my tribe are as cursed as I am, but the signs do not show as readily. There is no knot to be found. They conceive easier, but who would worry about a queen too easily conceiving her heir? They have excellent noses and hearing, but who could say that it is Lekif blood that makes our child that way? Your own ears are quite sharp.”

“Even if I was to have a girl,” Jensen said carefully, “I might still conceive a son the next time around. Or she might bear a son herself.”

“Second born children do not share the same burdens of the first, not for such men as you or I. So I wish for my child’s future to be as easy for her as possible,” Jared explained.

Jensen actually smiled at that, surprising Jared. He had half expected another comment about his dour mood.

“I am glad it was you,” Jensen said softly. “With the desperation that was on my shoulders, I couldn’t keep seeking out partners, hoping for a child. When my father died, I had a kingdom to run, no time for courting. So I handed the decision over to my council. It was for the good of my people that I keep my personal feelings aside, or I would have quit trying a long time ago.”

“Just ceased entirely?” Jared questioned. That did not sound like the man he had gotten to know over the past months. While they did not spend a great amount of time together with the way that Jared was constantly travelling to help his people transition and Jensen was busy with his royal duties, Jared knew his husband well enough to know that determination was one of his traits.

“You notice that I now longer enjoy certain physical acts,” Jensen said with a pointed glance down at Jared’s lap. “I used to be fond of that feeling, but only when my bed partners were there for compatible reasons with my own. I am not a fool. I have always been a prince, and as such there were always men and women looking for something other than my companionship. But when I became cursed it was much worse. I was a land to be conquered. Men became vicious in their pursuit of me and ruthless if I let them in my bed.”

“I am sorry,” Jared apologized.

“Do not be. If I was to choose, I would rather my child be loved than myself. You care for this child. I rather think that is why Aldis championed you so much. Many of my suitors would put demands and concessions down in their papers, few would mention our child.”

Jared frowned. “A man who was not concerned with his own blood should never have been considered in the first place. I find the more I know of proper kingdom politics, the less that I like them.”

Jensen laughed. “I think that you are right.”

“You are almost ready to give birth,” Jared observed, changing the subject back to something both of them enjoyed rather than not.

“I look it,” Jensen conceded, “but I’m assured I have many more weeks to go - by both my midwife and yours and at least three physicians. Apparently it is very common to feel that one is ready to go when one is not. I feel laughed at by the mothers who come to see me.”

“With my people,” Jared said softly, “it is common for the father to be present at the birth.”

“I know, Aldis mentioned it.”

“He did? But I did not speak to him about it,” Jared said.

“Aldis is capable of speaking to other people, you know. I think that he is getting along well with Sir Thomas and Sir Matthew. I fear they gossip about the two of us like traders on a rainy day at market.”

“Well, I would like to be present,” Jared stated firmly, forcing his eyes to stay on Jensen’s face instead of slipping away in deference.

Jensen smiled at him. “Arrangements have already been made.”

“Oh,” Jared said, feeling foolish.

“You should read the missives sent to you,” Jensen pointed out.

“It was raining,” Jared defended himself. “I had been riding for hours, and Aldis said that the only action required from it was for me to choose a midwife to be present.”

 

“And you didn’t think to read it in full when you were dry?” Jensen teased.

“I was more interested in sleeping,” Jared admitted. “But I was warmed that you wanted one of our midwives present. You could have just demanded your way. You are the one who will be giving birth.”

“Do not remind me,” Jensen said with a grunt. “I am not looking forward to that. I have heard horrific tales.”

“I have seen birth before, human birth,” Jared clarified. “It is every bit as terrifying as the women lead you to believe, but they do say that the end result is worth it.”

“I am sure it will be,” Jensen admitted. “Though I would not cry if our heir did not quite have your size.”

“As if you are not large of frame as well?” Jared challenged with a smile.

Jensen’s own smile grew at the sight, “Well, I am king. I can put the blame on you if I wish it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The day that Jensen’s heir decided to come into the world was a gloomy one. The rains were heavy and unrelenting, keeping Jensen from strolling through the stone paths of the gardens or even having his heavy windows cracked for a bit of fresh air.

At first he thought his discomfort to be nothing more than a simple twinge of pain. One more problem to be dealt with amongst a myriad of other inconveniences that being with child had brought him. He did not give thought to the idea that he might be in labor.

It was at least a month too early. Despite his difficulties conceiving, Jensen had been certain that the birth would at least follow a somewhat normal process when the rest of his pregnancy had been rather smooth.

“Jared,” Jensen grunted as he fell to his knees, his inkwell flying off his desk spilling its dark contents onto the rug that covered the stone floor of Jensen’s personal library. Beneath him, a pool of liquid spread from between his thighs, and he had a moment where all he could think was that he was going to have to commission a new rug for his room.

“Sire!” his guards shouted as they rushed to meet him, each one putting a shoulder under an arm and hoisting him to his feet.

“My husband,” Jensen hissed out as his stomach spasmed around the heavy weight inside of it, “Jared needs to be told that our child is coming.”

“Fetch the physician and midwife!” Jensen’s unhelpful guards called out down the hall as they drug him to the birthing room. As far as Jensen was concerned, the room was a waste of space. How often did a royal family truly need to birth young as opposed to any other activity?

But the idea of dismantling the royal birthing chambers had almost caused a scandal in his court, so Jensen had relented and kept the cozy room intact. At the moment, he was grateful for its existence, but only because he did not have as far to walk. If he had been in his throne room when his child decided to arrive, Jensen would feel far less magnanimous about its existence.

“Jared,” Jensen insisted again as his guards eased him onto the birthing bed. Its crisp, clean linens crinkled under his weight, and Jensen wondered what his maids did all day if the room was so pristine when there had been no anticipation of occupancy for at least another month.

“Everything will come out fine, your majesty,” the guard nearest Jensen soothed. Jensen felt like he deserved the punch he was given.

“Jensen,” Sebastian said as he bustled in, followed by the court physician and a local midwife, “you are early.”

“The stupidity of that obvious statement does not suit you,” Jensen said. “Where is Jared?” He paused to stare at the midwife who was busying herself at the foot of the bed. “Where is the midwife that Jared chose? It was agreed upon that we would use a Lekif midwife for the birthing.”

“I know what your marriage contract says, Jensen. But we are allowed to have our own midwife here as well,” Sebastian soothed.

“Not if I order her gone,” Jensen snarled. “I’ll not have her touching my child. That woman is not one of my chosen. I do not know her.”

The midwife gasped at his harsh words, but Jensen ignored her. “Sebastian, I’ll not have this.”

“Jared is touring the northern sections today for appropriate farming lands for his pack,” Sebastian reminded him. “I doubt he will back in time for the birth, and his chosen midwife happens to also be his only pack member who knows how to survey lands.”

“Tribe, they are a tribe,” Jensen grunted. “They are my tribe, now. My people to lead and protect.” Nothing made sense as he gasped and turned. His skin was sweating, and his mind felt fuzzy. “What do you mean that Jared will not be back in time for the birth?”

“Jensen,” Sebastian said sadly, “I cannot have him here when your child is born, and there was not another time when that mongrel was scheduled to be parted from you.”

“You caused this?” Jensen gasped as he tried to sit up.

“In all the years you spent trying to reverse the curse, you never once thought to look into ways it could be modified. The potion to cause you to go into labor early was cheap. You were close anyway. The spell to get you to become fertile early though? That was quite expensive. And very difficult I might add. Do you have any idea how hard it was to arrange a jousting match in the middle of winter?”

“You caused… I might not have conceived you bastard!” Jensen roared, anger pulsing through sluggish veins, making his temples throb.

“I dearly wish you wouldn’t have. Prince Morgan was supposed to be the one to snare you in his arms, but Misha went and grabbed that starving urchin instead. Let him cast his filthy, boney body on our sovereign to sully our royal bloodline with his humping.”

“Enough, I will have your tongue cut out for this treason. You talk about your prince consort,” Jensen reminded him as he tried, yet again to rise from the bed only to fall back on it.

“He is not my prince. I may have sworn fealty to him, but I will not allow his blood to bring my country down to its knees,” Sebastian told him. “So this is what will happen. You will give birth to your child. It will be examined and any… wolf like traits that are found will be removed from it before it is an hour old.”

“Jared will kill you. I will kill you,” Jensen swore.

“Oh, I very much doubt that. You see, by the time that Jared arrives back from his tour. The deed will have been done. You will be incoherent for days, hallucinating impossible things that may or may not be true. Meanwhile, dear Aldis will be chased out of the kingdom for daring to alter the king’s heir.”

“You’re insane. Aldis adores Jared. He fights for him.”

“Yes, which will make it all the more tragic when they find out that Aldis only championed Jared because of the price that he could fetch for certain body parts from your offspring. Men pregnant by wolves are a very uncommon occurrence, and the price for such ‘parts’ is very high.”

Sebastian faked a mournful look. “It really will be too bad that he scarred your insides to keep you from conceiving another child.”

“Guards!” Jensen called out.

“They’ll not listen to you,” Sebastian said. “They think you to be under Jared’s spell.”

“He is under somebody’s spell, but I do not think that it is Jared’s” Misha’s voice brought tears to Jensen’s eyes.

“Misha?” Sebastian spun around in shock. “I…”

“Save your breath for the prince consort that you hate so much,” Misha advised. “Jared may be more forgiving that I am. He may decide to whisper on Jensen’s pillow and keep you from being tortured before you are killed.”

“Not a likely scenario,” Jensen panted from the bed. The room was starting to spin, and his mind felt like it was floating away from his skull.

“True,” Misha inclined his head, “but I like to give hope – even to the undeserving.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You should not have come into the world this way, little one,” Jared whispered to his tiny, small son. The downy, blonde hair on top of his head was thick, but nobody had whispered the word ‘pelt’ within Jared’s hearing. They did not dare. Instead they talked of how the color was that of Jensen’s beloved mother, long dead but fondly remembered by her people.

Across the room from the bassinet that Jared was holding his son by, Jensen was sleeping. Jared had been told that his husband hadn’t been sane by the time that their child was brought into the world. He would be pushing with all his might one moment and then screaming about blood filled inkwells and evil snapdragons the next.

It was a mercy that he had finally fallen into a deep slumber. They said that both child and ‘mother’ had been screaming at the top of their lungs when Jared’s son finally came into the world.

“Jensen should have been one of the first to hold you,” Jared told his son. “He of all men wished for you. I think that it might be that he was lonely for you. He says that he needed an heir. That he could not let his kingdom fall into the wrong hands. But I think that that might be a little bit of a lie.”

“I’m not naming you yet, and I am sorry for that,” Jared apologized, “but your father is the king. I cannot have him beheading me or Misha or Aldis if we choose wrong.”

“Or worse,” Matthew said from where he was standing guard at the door next to one of Jensen’s regular palace guards, “you’ll be exiled to one of those sinfully fluffy featherbeds in one of the other bedrooms. Never to snuggle his highness again. Such torture.”

Jared smiled, but ignored his friend, instead pressing a kiss against the crown of the new prince’s head. “He will wake up for you,” he promised his son, “I know that he will.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jensen’s nipples did not hurt; they ached with a tenderness that he did not want. They throbbed and felt wet and sticky as did most of his chest. As the uncomfortable sensation drove him to wakefulness, his ears started reporting in. There were whispered voices and a wailing sound and…

“What is wrong with him?” Jared’s voice was booming in the room.

“Sire, please, I told you.”

Jensen could not quite make out the features of the woman standing before his husband, but he could tell that she was upset by the tone of his voice.

The wailing sound was coming from a baby in Jared’s arms.

A baby.

Jensen’s hand automatically flew to his stomach, pressing down on a hardness that was no longer there.

“Jared,” Jensen called out weekly.

In an instant, Jensen’s bed was surrounded by people. He could hear voices buzzing at him, and he knew that he would want to hear what they had to say eventually. A man didn’t just sleep through delivering his own child, after all. But there was only one person that he truly wanted to see, and that person did not yet speak words

“Did you get your wish?” Jensen asked Jared even though his eyes were focused on the swaddled child that he held in his arms.

“Yes,” Jared said.

“A girl then,” Jensen whispered.

“No,” Jared corrected, “you are awake.”

Jensen pulled his eyes from his firstborn to look at Jared. He swore that more than half of the occupants in his room had actually sighed in maidenly drama at the declaration. Jared did not look like he was going to apologize for it though, so Jensen returned his gaze to his son.

“Do you have the strength to hold him?” Jared asked. “Or do you need me to help you?”

“I can hold him,” Jensen said stubbornly, “at least for a little while.”

Jared leaned down and placed the babe into Jensen’s arms at last. The child curled into Jensen’s warmth, and began nuzzling at Jensen’s nightshirt, making impatient cries that were closer to whines. A fresh bloom of warm wetness came out of the pectoral that his son was rubbing against.

“I think he is hungry,” Jensen said dumbly.

“Yes,” Jared sounded terribly uncomfortable, “but Jensen, I don’t think you should feed him yet.”

“I assume that this has something to do with the fact that I missed his birth?”

“Yes.”

“I am not ill, otherwise you would not have kept his bassinet in my rooms,” Jensen deduced.

“True,” Jared agreed.

“I have been poisoned then,” Jensen said.

“Drugged, but we do not want to risk your milk right away. There were threats made on both you and our child.”

Jensen nodded and forced himself to lift his son away from his body. “Take him to the wet nurse then. I’ll not let another Lekif starve.”

The stranger that Jared had been yelling at reached for Jensen’s son, and with a light nod from Jared, he let her take his son from him. The child immediately began to scream and carry on, his voice almost howling with unhappiness.

“He wants to suckle his mother,” the woman almost snarled at Jared.

Jared looked pained at the words and a few of the guards suddenly found the floor to be extremely interesting. None of them more so than Jared’s own man of arms, Matthew.

“What?” Jensen demanded.

“Our son is very much of my blood,” Jared said as if breaking the news that he had been born without a leg or something equally as dire. “Our children, sometimes, they will howl for their mothers. They – it is called chilling by many. They know their mothers by both scent and sound, and refuse comfort from any other if their mother is nearby.”

“Oh for… will he eat if he is far enough away from me?” Jensen asked.

Jared looked surprised at his question.

“Well, will he?”

“Yes, but Jensen...”

Jensen motioned at his husband to cease talking. “Take him to another part of the castle and feed him. Then bring him back to me, and I will calm his crying. This is not a difficult task.”

“You are not concerned that he is like me?” Jared asked.

“No, I am not. Nor will I tolerate any other having such feelings, including my husband. My son is as he should be. If both of his fathers were cursed and have prospered, then I see no reason why I should worry over him being blessed.”

Jared smiled at him and motioned for the wet nurse to leave with the squalling infant. A group of guards followed her, and the remaining ones went to the other side of the door to his chambers, giving Jensen some privacy with Jared.

“Misha will be here soon,” Jared said as he sat down on the edge of the bed next to Jensen. “We will need to talk about what happened.”

“We will,” Jensen agreed, “and I will need to bathe. And we will need to name our child for I fear he has lived some time without one.”

“Yes,” Jared acknowledged.

“But until that time, I would like you to simply stay with me for a while,” Jensen requested. “Stay with me and plot our son’s future. Make it grander than either of his father’s lives and more peaceful.”

Jared looked at him solemnly before he twisted more of his frame onto the bed and moved an arm around Jensen’s shoulders. “Well,” he began, “our son will have flowing locks of golden hair and be both admired and envied by all the maidens in the kingdom. He will be tall and strong, the best horseman and have the noblest of hearts.”

“He will have a good mind for business and a love of growing things,” Jensen picked up. “More, more siblings than either of his fathers know how to handle.”

Jared chuckled. “I don’t know how to handle one.”

“And sometime, sometime before he leaves his childhood behind him,” Jensen continued in a quiet voice, “his fathers fall in love with each other.”

Jared’s arm didn’t leave Jensen’s shoulders, but squeezed tighter around them. “I think, Your Highness, that is a very fine plan."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FIN


End file.
